What They Don’t Tell You

By the time you read this, we will have celebrated (quietly) our 24th Anniversary.  In the days leading up to October, I’ve been thinking a lot about the things I wasn’t told about love and commitment.  I had the honor of observing my Great-Aunt Moose and Uncle Cleo celebrate 60+ years of togetherness, so I had an idea of what longevity in a relationship looked like.  I just had no reference point for how it FELT.

I’m no expert on relationships.  I count myself supremely and humbly grateful to have made it to this point. In the early years, if you’d asked me, or any of my close friends, if Jane and I would celebrate 24 years together – I think, honestly, we’d have been hard pressed to say “yes”.  We’re very different on the outside (for one thing, I’m 5’5″ on a good day and she is a stately, willowy 6 footer…); we were both coming out of long-term alliances that hadn’t worked out; and I don’t think most folks would have bet on us for the long haul.

However, we have a lot of the same beliefs and values;  we sincerely love (and most of the time – LIKE) each other; and we’ve both been willing to put in some seriously hard work over the years to keep this thing between the ditches.  I honestly think that’s the glue that’s held us together.  Between us we’ve worn out several local therapists.  And we’re not ready to quit, so I guess we’ll be wearing out a couple more.  Luckily, Asheville is run over with ’em.

There are so many books, songs, plays, reality shows and poems written about “soul mates” and “my one and only” and  “the one”.  What nobody bothers to tell you is that, after you find “the one”, you gotta wake up each day and make a life together. Sometimes just showing up is a challenge. I’ve always said that if I could figure out a way to give folks a wedding (without the messiness of a marriage), I’d be rich as Croesus (look it up).

Each day (Hell, sometimes each breath..), can present a test for any relationship. You’re not always gazing into each others’ eyes.   Sometimes you don’t even want to SEE each other.  Often you have to ask yourself: “Is this issue important enough to do battle?”.  The little things that bug you in the first year can reappear in the 7th, or the 10th, or the 18th – only to have you wonder: “Didn’t we kill this hog last year?”

What people don’t tell you is that a long-term relationship gives you the opportunity to challenge some of your cherished beliefs about yourself and other people.  They don’t share that your beloved will hold up a mirror for you – reflecting not only your good qualities, but all of your warts and childish behaviors too!    Folks don’t let on about the paralyzing fear that grips you when the person you love most in this world is in danger or ill.  They certainly don’t tell you what it’s like to realize that one of you will (probably) outlive the other.

There’s no information imparted about how you’ll feel when the laugh lines and gray hairs appear – and how they represent your shared story – the years of simply putting one foot in front of the other – days or weeks of one holding the fort down until the other could catch their breath – and catch up.  No one breathes a word about how, in the autumn of life, you experience the quiet joy of waking up beside someone who makes you smile – simply by murmuring “Good Morning”, and hauling themselves out of a warm bed to walk the dog and start the coffee.

So…how DOES it feel to head into 25 years together?  To quote the recently hitched Mr. George Clooney – “it feels pretty damned good”.  For me it’s like a banked fire on a cold evening.  The flames are no longer flaring high into the chimney, but the embers are still hot. It doesn’t hurt your eyes to gaze on that kind of fire.  You can cozy up to it and warm your hands – and your heart.  That kind of fire can cook your supper – and sustain you for an extended time.  That’s the kind of relationship I want and need going forward.  My only hope is that Jane and I will still be willing (and able) to reach for the poker, stir the ashes, and throw another log in the fireplace –  to warm us as we venture into our next quarter century.