Good thing FB reminded me of the post I'd written two years ago. How interesting that what stood out about our wedding was the fact that the limo never arrived to pick us up. I remember turning to my dad and saying, "What if this is a sign?" "What kind of sign?" he wanted to know. "What if I'm not supposed to marry him?"
On our honeymoon, you rented that motorcycle to get around Corfu. We tooled around and had a blast. That was my first time on a motorcycle. What a wild ride, I thought. Until you tried to out-run a truck on that windy dirt road and we wound up in a ditch. I got so banged up I could hardly walk and wondered if I had internal bleeding. We barely saw Athens because I was so hurt. And again I wondered what I was getting myself into?
Over the years, I've had issues with your driving. That time you made a sudden left from the right-hand lane in Hoboken. My life literally flashed before my eyes as a huge dump truck came within feet of crushing me. And that time I was 8 months pregnant with Markham and we drove up and down these unmarked roadways, bumping over logs and rock outcroppings looking for Tom's camp but never did find it? Or the times, the many, many times we ran out of gas, our car just suddenly died or we sank in mud well past the car's axles? And remember that trip going to one of our Cultural Survival sales when you got three speeding tickets in three different states?
But I do remember times when I should give you credit for your driving. Like your amazing parallel parking! And driving to the Neversink, down the former logging road, we barely fit, with one side of the car a cliff-face and the other a mountainside. Not a scratch on the car. And more recently, the hours of switchback roads you drove in-and-out of Mendocino. One stretch went 22 miles! Whew!
If we mapped the many trips we've taken, from Hoboken or Manhattan every weekend to our parents houses, back and forth to go fly-fishing to the Catskills or Pennsylvania, up and back to visit Macallan in Syracuse and now Markham in Plattsburgh, and your always too frigging long commute to work, no matter where we lived and what job you had, you've probably circled the globe several times over. And still I am anxious sitting shot-gun. I clutch the dashboard. I grab the handle. I slam my right foot onto my imaginary brakes. I scream, "Watch Out!" when only 10% of the time is there ever anything to be watchful of.
I don't know why. We've never been in a serious accident. We have never gotten hurt (except for our honeymoon in Greece in 1986). I'm not even really sure why I had to have "happy pills" for our long Botswana road trips. I slept during the stretches where you drove 120mph!
But it seems significant. It seems like that's symbolic of our marriage. You driving us. You are the reason we went places - to Florida, to Botswana, and here I was, just going for the ride.
But while that's how I remember it, that's not the case, is it? We've taken these 31 years together. Sometimes you're the driver, deciding not only where we're going but how fast we'll go. Sometimes, you're driving me to places I need to go. And sometimes, I've spurred you on to look for new fishing spots, hiking trails or new breweries to keep things from getting too stale and to fulfill both our need to explore.
We're at a frustrating and difficult time right now. At a time when we're essentially empty nesters but you still have to work, further exasperated when we have big unforeseen expenses, like the two major repairs on the cars. Just when we think we've got it all figured out, a budget we can live with and plans for the future, something goes wrong and sets us back.
And sometimes, there isn't a "What to do?" as much as, "What do I do now? " or "What do I want to do?" coz you're bored or you're empty inside.
I've been questioning us lately. Not because there's something wrong, but more that there's nothing wrong. I make conversation. I prod. I poke. But maybe, I should just let you drive. I should trust that you'll get us there and you'll get us there safe and sound. Not a scratch on us.
Because I'm not just the passenger, going along for the ride. You aren't always the driver who knows where we're going. Sometimes, you're there just to get me to the destination I need. Sometimes, you take me on a wild and crazy ride.
That's what our love is. It's a journey we're taking together. I'm not sure where we'll wind up, but after 31 years, I should trust that no matter what, you'll be right by my side. You're not going anywhere, I know that now. You're not going anywhere ... unless it's with me.
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