Most of the time we amble about, oblivious of our own shadow. It is always there, at least if we are within the domain of the sunshine. It stretches and shrinks at will, now fitting into your cupped hands, now elongated across the sidewalk. 

The other day a friend expressed what my marriage means to her. She said that thinking of us sometimes gives her that last gasp of energy to stay in the game with her own husband. I was speechless. 

And yet I can easily render up the images of older couples that came to me in bleak moments, and kept me from throwing in the towel.

One was at the church camp I went to for twenty years. A young mother was fielding three ornery boys on a walk to a sunset worship. They whined, and flopped on the ground, and ran ahead in turn. She remained composed, and responded with gentle guidance to keep them headed in the right direction. I had no kids at the time and watched her every move. It stayed with me when my own children resisted herding. The interesting thing is, if the boys had been cooperative I would not have remembered the walk for ten minutes, let alone thirty years.

Another was a time my aunt and uncle were demonstrating a communication skill to a group of people. They had a conversation that could easily have exploded into an argument were it not for the constraints of the skill. He talked, she listened. She fed back, he said yes, no or partial. She made a few amendments until it was right. Then it was his turn. 

I am immensely grateful to the people who have been willing to let me see their shadow. If everyone were like Peter Pan I would probably be a Lost Girl.