(If you want to hear Lori read the story click) here

 

The marriage conference was amazing. I am still distilling the moments into a whole I cannot yet stand back far enough to scope. 

 

The opening plenary would have been enough all by itself. I could have meandered home with a borrowed book under my arm, oblivious of the snappy air and mundane traffic, with ample roughage for a year of gratitude and tender contemplation. The presenting couple told their childhood stories, laced with the pain that was theirs to carry. I heard no jagged edges of self pity, or blame. Neither wasted a whiff of angst on parents who were themselves stumbling for purchase. Each spoke with acceptance of circumstances that left them bruised but not broken. I found myself suspended on the cusp of tears, willingly rescued by laughter each time they spliced in the ridiculousness that has been their tether. I watched them pass the baton forth and back, as they narrated their own marathon. I saw their shallow breathing, heard the catch in their voices as they opened up memories heavy with thirty years of dust and nailed boards. 

 

They projected photos on the wall... the bright kind that make their way into photo albums and oak frames. This created a paradox between what looked like a sun kissed life, and the description of children whose protection was dislodged when he and she needed it most.