As I said in Married blog #1, things did unexpectedly change after the ritual. And no, it’s not just because people keep asking “How is married life?” Though I do find that question slightly annoying. Ask me something specific. Do I have doubts? Am I happy? Do I love him? Do I now, after all these years, pine for the possibility of other options for a mate? Do I have secretes to partnered bliss? No, for the first one and last two. There you have it. I find the question annoying because, well, there IS something that changed…and those leaves of change continue to steep, revealing different aromas as the time goes on.
And I don’t quite know how to describe the new fragrances. I don’t have words yet for them.
Again, pardon my naivte, but that shocks the hell out of me—and I will say, also him (not that I don’t have words. We all know I have too many words. I am shocked at the changes). Mostly, life goes on as normal. The habits are the same: we go about our routines as we have for years. He usually wakes up earlier than I, I pad out of bed about fifteen minutes or so later—-just when I realize he’s already up— and like usual, he greets me with some variation of “Good morning, sunshine!”—that’s when he’s gotten work done already; “Good morning, sleeping beauty!”—that’s when he thinks I should’ve gotten up earlier; “Oh, look, the princess has awoken!”—that’s when he’s been a lazy ass as well and has been either binge watching tv or playing a video game. Anyway, no matter the variation of the greeting, if it is winter, he asks if I want coffee and he looks at my feet. He looks at my feet to see if they are properly clad with something warm. “Properly” in this case also means am I wearing matching socks, not just warm ones. I have a flagrant disregard for matching socks.
Those are severely sweet gestures. They always have been. I don’t take them for granted, but again, they are our routine. Our ritual. So I struggle now with how to articulate how they have become different. All I can say is there is now a stall, there is now an elasticity of the molecules of time when I watch him check my feet and he looks up to make eye contact again. There is some rebounding infinity in those molecules that even though we knew was there before, now seems more palpable. Some deep quantumness (that’s not a word, I don’t think) of temporality, of immediacy that is for real, for ours: “now and forever—now and and next time” have shed any abstractness they may have garnished themselves with before. They are here already. And I am awed and grateful for their confidence.
We both are wishing everyone for whom this date marks a new year, Happy New Year! May it be blessed.