Holding Hands

I don't participate in writing prompts often [publicly], but as I've shared previously, one of the most welcoming group of bloggers can be found over at Deb's of San Diego Momma. Deb supplies writing prompts every Tuesday. If you ever choose to participate, I guarantee your writing will be read and your efforts supported and encouraged. You can't go wrong.

This week's prompt is "L-O-V-E". You can read about it here.

I worked on a post about love and decided it read like I was pontificating. I don't want to do that. We all have sweet, interesting, meaningful [to us] stories about how we met our significant other, how wonderful and passionate portions of our lives and love have been. We're best friends. [vomit] We do everything together. [puke] We finish each other's sentences. [bullshit] We complete each other. [fingers in ears, la-la-la-la-la] Even if these things are true, most of it is best kept private—it rarely reads well, people. A select few can get away with expressing to the world in detail, the love and respect shared between a committed couple.

I used to work with a woman who always talked about she and her husband's sex life. It ruined my lunch every day because I couldn't get the visual out of my head. We all have sex. We've all had good sex. None of us invented it, so caress your ego somewhere else. Even better, share all the mush and high-fives with your partner—or Penthouse Forum.

Chris and I have been married 19 years, together more than 20—just the facts. For the record, I don't believe someone's time together is an indication of the health of the relationship. [Chris and I are fine—no worries.] We've had our challenges and our times of ease. I assume we'll have more of both in the future.

When I think of the best relationship advice we've received, two examples come to mind.

We'd been married only a couple of years and already felt the need to see a marriage counselor. [We're the generation that goes to a therapist for everything.] I was working as an administrative assistant for three PhDs. One of the PhD's was a man named Charles. He was in his late 70s and found himself needing to return to work later in life, not unlike many older people in this economy. He had been married over 50 years and had what appeared to be a very traditional marriage.

Charles and I were often the only two people in the office. One day Charles overheard me talking with Chris on the phone and I was crying by the end of the call. He came over and offered me his handkerchief, which I politely accepted even though I'd seen him using it earlier. He asked me if I needed to talk, so I told him the story. What Chris said and felt, what I said and felt, what the therapist said...  Charles listened. In a soft and assured voice, he said, "When you go home tonight, you two just sit on the couch and hold hands. Watch the news quietly. It sounds like you kids have talked enough. Just hold hands, and sit, and don't talk. Rest."

He was right. I think we were in a ditch, and the therapist was over-complicating the situation. We needed to step out of the ditch and walk away from it. Not analyze from several angles how we got in the ditch, and all the possible ways to get out—just hop out of the ditch.

There are obviously times that require labor-intensive communication to resolve issues, but this wasn't one of them.

The second example that comes to mind is something my Mamaw said. Chris and I were having dinner with she, Papaw, my parents, and Chris' parents several years ago. We were finished eating, enjoying conversation and a little more wine. Someone asked Mamaw and Papaw what the key was to being married so long. They shrugged and smiled, the conversation moved along. We began discussing  sleep patterns, like what time we went to bed at night and got up in the morning. Papaw said, "I'm an early riser so I go to bed about 8:00 o'clock. Jane here, she likes to sleep in, so she stays up much later than I do."

Mamaw raised her eyebrows, lifted her glass and said, "That's...how we've stayed married so long."

[Mamaw, Papaw, Oldest Boy and Middle Boy - July 2004]

What's Wrong With This Picture?

This photo was taken last Saturday.  Oldest Boy and I were on a ski lift.

So, what's wrong with this picture? Besides the too-bright light, too-close (arms length), unflattering angle, shot...I'm not wearing a helmet.

Chris and the boys wear helmets on the mountain and I don't. It's not that I'm opposed to it, I've just not taken the time to buy one. As most skiers/boarders know, 20 years ago we didn't wear helmets. Those of us with little or no money didn't wear goggles, or even snow pants. Jeans and a can of Scotch Guard seemed to work fine.

I'm buying a helmet, Chris. I promise.

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This photo was taken this morning while the boys were riveted to Clone Wars.

So, what's wrong with this picture?  We spent all day yesterday (Saturday) working in the yard. We obviously didn't use good sun-sense. [Notice Toddler Child's neck, but all three boys have sunburns on their arms, necks, ears and cheeks.] Chris has had multiple squamous cell carcinomas removed over the years and our boys inherited his funky white skin. Shame on us for not applying sunscreen. It's rare, but it happens.

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The following photos were taken at Utah's Hogle Zoo a little over a week ago.  [Click on photos to enlarge.]

So, what's wrong with these pictures?  Nothing really.  We just had a nice time.

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A couple more... sorry.  [Click on photos to enlarge.]

 

What's wrong with these pictures? Not much. Although, Chris should have never photographed my butt next to an elephant's.

Secret Lovers

I was in our home office one evening last summer after watching a fireworks display with Chris and the boys from our backyard. Our house sits on a corner lot across the street from a park where celebratory fireworks are usually launched. The holiday doesn't matter for this story. It could have been July 4th, Pioneer Day, or our "Small Town Days" annual celebration.

It was about 9:30 PM, the office was dark and I had entered quietly so I wouldn't wake Toddler Child who was asleep in his room above the office. I wanted to check email before getting ready for bed myself. The office has two interior french doors and one french door that opens to the exterior with a full length window next to it. There's a small porch off the office and the door and window provide a clear view of the street in front of our home. On this evening, the street was full of cars. People had parked in any available space in the neighborhood and walked to the park to watch the fireworks.

I hadn't turned on any lights when I noticed a small white car in front of our house with two girls sitting on the hood, leaning back on the front windshield. They didn't see me. Voyeuristically, I chose to move closer to the window, hiding myself, but watching.

The two girls both had long hair, trim figures and were an average sort of pretty. My kids aren't teenagers so I'm not very good at estimating ages, but I would guess the girls were 15 or 16. They were chatting and laughing, sitting on the hood of the car.

The fireworks ended, people clapped and whistled, and through our open windows I could hear the sounds associated with gathering blankets, snacks, and kids. The crowd was collecting itself, and would be making its way to parked vehicles. The two girls hopped off the car and walked to the sidewalk. They were standing near the car, shoulder-to-shoulder, but not touching the car or each other and I could see them clearly. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

They seemed to be discussing something. They turned and faced each other, quickly looked around, I now assume, to see if they were still alone. Then... they kissed. They held hands at hip height, and stole a long, loving kiss.

I just watched.

Within seconds they pulled away from one another, separated and walked around the little white car so they were standing on the street instead of the sidewalk. People trickled, then streamed from the park searching for their cars. Three kids—two boys and one girl—approached the white car while smiling and engaging in horseplay. They greeted the two girls who had a moment prior secretly kissed. One of the boys grabbed the hand of one of the kissing girls. They appeared to be boyfriend and girlfriend. The couple hugged, playfully kissed and hung on each other while the group of friends likely discussed where they would go next.

I just watched. And thought.

After several minutes the street was nearly empty of cars. The kids finally climbed into the little white car in front of our house. One of the kissing girls was in the backseat with her boyfriend, his arm over her shoulder, nuzzling her neck. The other kissing girl was in the front passenger seat, smiling and fiddling with the radio. The second boy was driving and the third girl was in the backseat trying to ignore the light petting occurring between the young couple—the boyfriend and the kissing girl.

As they drove away that night I wondered what the truth was. Who loved who? Who was afraid of who? And I felt sad.