(My apologies to Garrison Keillor fans as this entry has nothing to do with his book though it did inspire the title.)
As of this very afternoon, I have been married sixteen years to a woman who apparently has the patience of a saint. I have never awoke to find her hovering over me about to cover my snoring mouth with a pillow. I have no evidence that she ever attempted to drain the brake fluid from my car. These things amaze me.
They amaze me for many reasons but first and foremost because were not old enough or wise enough to realize how difficult marriage would be. It took about 25 minutes to complete the ceremony and about five years to figure out how to truly be married. The “up times” were good but the “down times” were valleys. I’m still not sure how we made it through it all.
I was a pain – difficult at times, selfish at times. I came with enough baggage to fill the trunk of a taxi cab.
My expectations were unrealistic. My sneezes are very loud. I only like the toilet paper to come off underneath the roll.
I’m certain that living with me was mind-bogglingly frustrating. But, there was something that kept telling me that I needed to hold on to this particular person. At least I was right about that.
So, here we are, sixteen years in and we have raised two children who, so far, are well-adjusted, extremely intelligent and don’t appear to have inherited any of my quirks or my lousy eyesight. We have a nice enough house, a full refrigerator and we can pay the mortgage and the car note every month. What more can you ask for?
I am blessed by this love, probably don’t deserve this love, and probably don’t say how grateful I am for it nearly enough.