forty-two and counting…
by Bella Rum
That may not be such bad marriage advice. However, for us, today marks forty-two years of mostly eating breakfast together. We’ve decided to give it a few more years. If things don’t improve by then we’ll go our separate ways. If he continues to leave piles of “stuff” stacked all over the office and chew loudly enough for the neighbors to hear, the end could be sooner. This little experiment is still on trial.
Of course, I’m joking, but there have been a few times over the past four decades when we’ve looked at each other and wondered where is this ship headed, especially the early years in Maryland. It was a period of adjustments: more demanding work hours, a son heading into his teens, separation from family and friends, financial woes, etc.
The best part about marriage at this time of life? I’m so happy to look across that breakfast table and see someone looking back who was there for it all, someone who witnessed it all, someone who remembers the time we rushed our son to the emergency room with a 105% temperature, the time we got snowed in for five days and ran out of toilet paper, the time our son won that big-deal science award, the vacations, the birthdays, the cookouts, the births, the deaths, the Christmases, the triumphs, the failures, the good, the bad, and the mediocre. He was there for it all.