Marriage Moats-Monotonous
Published: Thu, 01/19/12
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 (If you want to hear Lori read the story click)here Today though, the view outside my window is blahh. The sky is gray, and the air pricks at my hands until I pull on my gloves. It looks less like the glossy pamphlets I saw when I chose this destination and more like the forgotten part of town. Frankly, I am sick of the journey. How long is this supposed to take anyway? I did not actually check the arrival time when I bought my ticket, but I sure wasn't expecting this. I started out happy, I want to get to happy, so why this protracted detour?
It is not as if I am bleeding or in pain. It just feels monotonous sometimes... well most of the time. I go to bed with all the dishes done and the counter wiped clean, and by the time kids whoosh off to school it is littered with last night's cereal and ice cream bowls, and this morning's hurried juice glasses. Can't we all try fasting? John and I connect occasionally, but there is hubbub in between when I have no idea what he is thinking and he certainly does not know how I am feeling.
It reminds me of a hem stitch. You do not want thread to show on the front of the garment, so you travel along on the back for half an inch, take a tiny stitch, another long hidden stretch, a tiny stitch, all the way around the circumference of the dress. It does hold the hem, so I guess it works for the girl wearing it. Can our sporadic attachment hold us together while we wear this marriage?
I can hear the chugging of the train, underneath my own grumbling, so I suppose we are getting somewhere. But the sense of progress is hard to detect. I wish the conductor would stroll through the aisle every few hours, and announce that we are indeed fifty or a hundred miles closer to Marital Bliss.
"Next stop, Marital Bliss. Marital Bliss, comin' up next," I guess I need to trust the tireless commitment of the Engineer.
Photo by Jason Buss
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