Well, pretty much everyone knows now. The cat is out of the bag. Yes, indeed. The rumours are true. I’m getting married again.
Older and wiser. I’ve figured out what I want, and who I want. Figured out how to argue fairly, how to pick my battles, and never to go to bed mad. Figured out give and take and compromise.
We don’t go out much. We don’t have a lot of money, for one thing, either of us, but we both have jobs that we love in the social service sector, making a difference in the world. We like healthy cooking at home, drinking gallons of coffee and playing scrabble. Going to bed early. Reading and music. CBC radio. The Far Side. The news, the what’s-going-on-in-the-world stuff. Volunteerism and causes. And we laugh, oh we laugh, he makes me laugh all the time.
He cuts me slack, makes me feel kinder towards myself. We have the same values, the same tastes, the same kind of energy. During my recent convalescence, I really saw his true colours, and they are all my favourite colours: compassion, thoughtfulness and a genuine concern for my well-being. I care whether he’s happy or not, whether he’s well, whether his feet are cold.
I once asked a wise friend, on her second marriage, how she and her spouse made it work. Her answer stuck with me, and astounded me with its simplicity. “We’re kind to each other.” We’ve taken that very much to heart. We ARE kind to each other. We’ve talked about not taking advantage of each other, or cheating. We’ve talked about respect, and the need for each of us to have separate interests and personal space. We’ve talked about politics, spiritual views, and feminism. We’re both great communicators, good listeners and talkers, too.
We’ve got lots of things to figure out first. Will the cats get along? Domestic arrangements, reorganizing and merging, complicated family stuff, and legal considerations that weren’t there our first times out. Just – stuff. Needs to be done, and we’re both old enough to recognize that.
My brother is a lay minister for the next five years, and has agreed to marry us. How cool is THAT? Not a big-white-gown cathedral wedding, but something intimate with our families and our friends around us. We drove up to Bracebridge to tell my Dad yesterday, and his response was “I hoped that was what you were going to say.”
I know it’s not been long since we met, but it’s just “one of those things”. Some people are supposed to be together. I can’t think of a single reason not to do this, and a million reasons to go ahead. I feel like if someone said “this is as good as it gets, you know. If you choose this, this is all you get,” that I’d be completely okay with that.
I’m not perfect. I’m not for everybody. Neither is he. We’re a little odd, maybe, a little intense. But I’ve never smiled so much in my life, and I’ve yet to be in a position where I had to explain a conversation to him. He gets it. I get it.
And it’s awesome, and I’m blessed.