Hubby

Hubby and I will be married for forty-one years in October. This is quite an accomplishment, since my brain is but sixteen.  He sighs.  He says sometimes he thinks it is only six.  I don't argue (well, yes, I do) because I believe it, too.

I met Hubby when we were just sixteen, a blind date that my late and dearly loved cousin set up (RIP Frank).  That night began a journey that has lasted to this very day.

Lest anyone should believe it is easy, I will tell you now--it isn't.

There are ups and downs, anger and disgust, screaming and loving and everything in between.

We went through heartbreak.  We went through periods of wealth and struggle, boundless joy and trauma.  The road to forever takes twists and turns.  Sometimes it is hard to stay focused.  Our thoughts tend to wander to what might have been.  Our hearts know that what might have been....IS.  This is reality.  This is US. 

As Hubby and I approach forty-one years, I look back at what was us then, and what is now.

We were so young!  Would we have made different choices?  A resounding "yes", we both agree.  Would we still have come together? Yes.  Would WE still be US?  Yes.

We have reached a stage of comfort.  We finish unspoken thoughts, we agree on grilled cheese or Wendy's take-out when I don't want to cook.  He doesn't do laundry, I don't mow the lawn.  We don't ask, we just do.  Sometimes we are too comfortable.  We need to get away, get some excitement. Sometimes it is the predictability that makes us argue. I found hobbies to give me a new perspective.  We started going dancing.  It works for us.

Yes, we gripe and complain.  We get over it.  We trust.

The changes in myself over the past year didn't scare him like I thought they would.  Instead, he tells me he kinda likes the confidence I have grown and the hair I have not.  He likes the energy and the bling.  He likes the smiles.  I see that those changes have rubbed off some on him. I like that.

He goes to church with me now, too, most Sunday mornings.  Many times we will have coffee with newfound friends.  He has renewed old friendships, too.  We are growing.

These days, you know when I feel most loved by him?  When he whispers naughtiness in my ear?  No, not as much as when we are at a wedding, or in church, or walking on the street and he reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight. It's knowing that he doesn't care who sees the affection.  He's proud of me, he says.

The throw-away society we live in does not apply to Hubby and me.  We live and breathe the same air, rehash the same arguments, get bored together, live at different places on the political spectrum.  He likes early sixties music, I prefer early seventies and eighties.  I read mysteries, he reads history.  The differences keep us together.  So does the sameness.

There have been days when the anger alone would have made it easy to walk away.

Why didn't we?

It wasn't only the vows or the commitment or the love.  It certainly wasn't the paper  license.  It's a connection I can't explain.  Soulmates? Maybe.

All I know is that he isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Neither am I.