A family with masks on and a sunset behind them.

It’s been a year

It’s been a year since I’ve worked in an office building.

Since I’ve watched my daughter play sports without she or I wearing a mask.

Since I’ve been inside a bookstore or library.

Since I’ve hugged my brother.

Since I’ve eaten in a restaurant.

Since I’ve stayed in a hotel.

Been to the airport.

Been in a bar.

Been in a mall.

Been to a funeral.

It’s been a year without parties I didn’t want to attend.

Without gatherings I didn’t want to host.

Without organizing carpools.

Without a school band concert, play, or art festival.

It’s been a year of talking in tiny computer windows.

Talking to myself, constantly present in my own tiny window.

Talking to family on badly oriented devices.

Talking to no one, because I’m on mute.

To my cats, standing on my laptop.

To friends via text, anxiously watching for the …

To coworkers’ upper bodies.

It’s been a year since I was embarrassed by my messy house.

Since I worried about what I was wearing.

Since other’s opinions mattered more than my own.

Since I learned how to say “no”.

It’s been a year of being afraid my parents will die.

Being afraid I will die.

Being afraid my husband or daughter will die.

Afraid that I will get my loved ones sick.

Afraid that I will get my friends sick.

Afraid of how angry my friends would be if I got them or their loved ones sick.

Afraid of killing someone.

It’s been a year of change.

It’s been a year of learning.

A year of disappointment.

A year of endless family.

A year lacking friendship.

A year with no physical contact.

Of unacknowledged losses large and small.

Of eyes opening, hearts breaking, and injustice.

It’s been a year of distance

dread

introspection

protest

riot

judgement

anger

fear

anxiety

death

history.

It’s been a year.

Favorite Lines (The Anniversary Edition) – The Sparrow

In honor of my wedding anniversary I share with you my favorite passage about marriage from one of my favorite books, The Sparrow by Maria Doria Russell.  In my mind it is the most honest and true writing I have ever encountered about commitment and the realities of two people staying together.  I have been known to send it to friends when their marriages are in crisis.  (Because nothing gives comfort like a really long book passage.)  Anne Edwards is the narrator in this passage.  She’s married to George Edwards and is talking with their younger friend Jimmy Quinn.  Bear with me, because I think it’s worth the really long read.

“…we all make vows, Jimmy. And there is something very beautiful and touching and noble about wanting good impulses to be permanent and true forever,” she said. “Most of us stand up and vow to love, honor and cherish someone. And we truly mean it, at the time. But two or twelve or twenty years down the road, the lawyers are negotiating the property settlement.”

“You and George didn’t go back on your promises.”

She laughed. “Lemme tell ya something, sweetface. I have been married at least four times, to four different men.” She watched him chew that over for a moment before continuing, “They’ve all been named George Edwards but, believe me, the man who is waiting for me down the hall is a whole lot different animal from the boy I married, back before there was dirt. Oh, there are continuities. He has always been fun and he has never been able to budget his time properly and – well, the rest is none of your business.”

“But people change,” he said quietly.

“Precisely. People change. Cultures change. Empires rise and fall. Shit. Geology changes! Every ten years or so, George and I have faced the fact that we have changed and we’ve had to decide if it makes sense to create a new marriage between these two new people.” She flopped back against her chair. “Which is why vows are such a tricky business. Because nothing stays the same forever.” ― Mary Doria Russell, The Sparrow

In my world, and I only have depth of vision into my own life, this is how marriage really works.  You make a vow and you spend the rest of your life together doing the best you can by that commitment given the people you become.  With me and Mr. Afthead there have been really hard times when we clung to each other, and other times when we pushed away.  There have been unexpected joyful times and well planned celebrations that fell flat.  There are times when our marriage works without a hitch.  There are other times when it is a deadly slog that we just have to get through.  Throughout it all we decide if the marriage makes sense with who we are in a given moment and in the foreseeable future.  So far, we’ve come out of that evaluation together every time.  It isn’t Romeo and Juliet, but it’s worked for us.

I hope I haven’t embarrassed you all with the deep romance that runs through the Afthead household.  Now off to go cook dinner for my snookems.  Also, there’s a card here somewhere I need to sign.

Love from the Aftheads!