So this is love…
I guess it takes clearing out the insecurities of youth and the questions and searching until you find a voice that actually sounds like yours. I had to sit on that rock in the Goshen River so many years ago in Virginia and wake early in the farmhouse to coffee so crisp, because it was made with unadulterated fresh water that you can only get in the foothills.
And I had to make the rhubarb-strawberry pie with Peg’s ice water crust and the view of the mountain rising up out the window. I had to date (how many was it?) men before I found The One. I had to marry the wrong one to get the right kids to find the solitude in silence and quiet and the peace in being alone, which you can really only appreciate in the 30s and beyond.
And it was the peace of being alone that built the confidence that led to NOW. And it was in the now that I met Love.
I always wanted to be a mother, and I had these three wonderful children with ease but couldn’t really settle in and look eye-to-eye with each of them without feeling ready to flee until I’d silenced the noise in the background. And then, it was like a sunrise every moment, even the ones where I yelled and cursed and sent someone to their room to “think about it.”
And it was in the aftermath of my awakening, after I’d hiked the Freedom Trail, all gravel road and tall trees and deer darting out in daytime across our path because it was more theirs than ours, that I stumbled upon love.
Yesterday, Dan and I sat in the sunroom, the constant whirr of air-conditioning battling the nearly-100-degree day. Or maybe we sat together in the overstuffed chair in another room, with a similar view; it doesn’t matter.
I’ve lost count of how many times the words I love being married to you crossed my mind. I said yesterday that I want to travel far and wide with him, discover the world, and also I am equally happy doing absolutely nothing with him. It’s all the same.
No boundaries, no barriers, you just want to be together, in any situation, at any time. After three consecutive days of just-us, I still want more.
It’s the love that lets you laugh in the middle of an argument – how stupid are we to fight over this? It’s the love that makes you understand when not one boy but two climb into your bed in the night. It’s the love that has him calling my daughter honey and me telling his daughter, I love you.
Thank God I found it. Everyone should have the chance at this kind of love, the color of a sunset, the undulation of a Lake Michigan wave. It’s beautiful. And I daresay, it’s the point of everything.