Thursday, June 7, 2012

Fifteen Years 1-4-3

Today is my 15th wedding anniversary. I think it deserves a little fanfare. There is no grand party for celebrating 15 years with your spouse, no commercial card that I could find that says, "Happy Fifteenth."
June 7, 1997
So here on my blog, I am making up my own public display of affection.
These years have been the happiest moments of my life even when  pregnancy loss, my father's death and other family issues have swung the mood pendulum temporarily in the other direction.
As a child of divorce, I had one thing I aspired to as a little girl more than my goal of becoming a writer- to have an intact family of my own.
Every railroad track I crossed over, every shooting star and birthday candle wish was always the same. I honestly didn't think it would come true.
And then it did.
When Mark and I started our journey more than a decade and a half ago we had no idea what we would discover about each other - the good, the bad and unflattering. But the journey has been such great fun. We put off having kids right away and then when it seemed right, we decided to become parents. It's been tiring, exhilarating and lovely in ways I could have never imagined, like when we all meet in the kitchen and one of us or the boys yell: "Group Hug!"  We smoosh into a huddle of hugs and kisses that make me want to hold on to the moment forever.
Some days it doesn't seem like 15 years has passed until your 7 year-old introduces you as "middle-aged."
Mark and I  "re-met" after high school while being radical in the political sense. We were 26. The city we grew up in, Holyoke, was pursuing taking over its hydroelectric dam. It was a contentious political fight. He was the engineer on the project and I was envelope stuffing for the cause.
There was a meeting at Maloney's bar. We got to talking and exchanged numbers.
A few weeks later I called his answering machine and asked him out.
I regretted the voicemail message at the time because I had never asked anyone out before and now it was on tape - a record of potential rejection. Lucky for me he called back and said we should do dinner and a movie. I had just suggested a movie.
Our first date was at Aqua Vitae - an Italian restaurant in Hadley no longer around. He ate lasagna and I had eggplant Parmesan. Before the movie we went to the Hampshire Mall arcade and I lost miserably in the game wack-a-mole.
He still liked me.
After three months we pinkie swore an engagement because we didn't want to listen to everyone calling us crazy.
We made it official at 10 months. Our whole life was ahead of us.
The wedding was grand.
Yet it's the every day stuff that still makes me swoon as I did after our first kiss in Northampton.
When I have too much to talk about - usually at night while Mark is trying to go to sleep - we joke that I have not gotten in my 5,000 words for the day.
Through most of our marriage, save for when he was in grad school, Mark cooks because well, I burn.
I'm grateful.
My husband is the only one who can tell me I'm behaving insanely and I believe him.
 "If you were having a heart attack Pat you would have been dead 8,000 times."
We laugh and move on.
This may sound strange to say but I love our fights.  Fighting fair has been an evolution- talking instead of the silent treatment.  I especially love when we realize how stupid an argument is and burst out laughing noting the fight was more about being over tired or flummoxed about that matchbox car that was flushed down the toilet because one of the boys wanted to see where it would go.
I so appreciate  his calm, smart, and direct mind as a balance to my passionate, creative, and often impatient energy.
I don't mind saying my husband, my best friend, brings out the best in me. I had a feeling he would even before he proposed.
I was driving into work at the newspaper when the realization hit me...I am going to marry this man and have his/our kids.
I LOVE him.
It was a visceral.
Fantastic really.
And so it is today, just even better.






2 comments:

  1. Well, Patty, this blog of yours is a great find! I relate a lot as I think Rich and I have a similarly good marriage after 28 years.I remember when we got together I was defaulting to the silent treatment from my Irish/English parents.Rich would have none of it and promptly taught me how to argue, complete with yelling and saying outrageous things to each other. "Now it's your turn to argue back" he would say. He insisted, an Italian needs his partner to argue back, otherwise there's no fight! Over the years we would howl with laughter over our fights moments after.(My all time favorite? Me screaming "Eat shit and die!" down the huge front stairway in our former big house on Northampton Street.It came back from the deep, a phrase we used in high school in Pa. and long dormant in my memory bank.)Cardinal rule #1: Never remember the crazy nasty stuff you might say to each other. It's not true,just hysteria ammunition, and should not be nursed.
    Anyway thanks for sparking my own memories of a good marriage! And congratulations to you both, for doing so well at love.

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    1. Thanks. I like that story! Life love...so much fun!

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