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My friend Jody, who I met on the river, wrote this comment on yesterday’s post.  He knows me, he knows the story, so well.

"Ellen, that is not the real story. The real story is of the 33 years of living and working together, of building a studio and business, of raising kids, of good times and bad. It is the story of your being so successful; it almost killed you, of the times when you were so poor you didn’t know how to get the car fixed. It is the story of you and Marc almost losing each other. The tale is of you escaping to the canyons of the Rio Grande to find yourself and guiding Marc to find you there. It is of the saga of Pate de Verre, the cracked glass, the firing schedules, the molding process developed by two minds working together. It is of two people joining in a journey with all its twists and turns, highs and lows.

That is the real love story."

I wrote the following before I read his comment today.  I wrote today’s post because the three previous posts make it sound like a fairy tale and it sure seemed that way in the beginning.  I assure you the years that followed were anything but.

33 years is a long time.  As I said in the beginning, there was a time when I thought we weren’t going to make it, was certain we were not going to make it even with all the ties that bound us.  There was a time when it was absolute misery for both of us and the kids.  For years.  And, working together, we were together 24/7.  I had seriously begun to question the sense of destiny, my core belief about the rightness of us.  One of the reasons I got into river guiding was to have time away, days at a time away during which I was literally unreachable.  I had a friend read the tarot cards for me and every card was so right on and so bad until the very last card which was The Sun, about the best card in the whole deck.  I had Dreams again.

But then, almost like the cavalry to the rescue weirdly enough (Reya, here’s an example of the good thing/bad thing), there came that ‘do or die’ moment and we began to do the hard work to fix it.  It took years.  

Now, of course, I’m glad we are here.  Time has a way of dulling the pain and I think the good outweighs the bad.  We are the same and yet we are different.  I’m looking for good from here on out.  Good is relative of course but I think we are done with the bad years.

So what kept us together during those dark years?  I think about that, wonder about that, when so many people just throw it all away rather than deal with it.  I did it.  (Of course any sane woman would have in my situation.)   I try not to judge but I do think, now, that divorce is too easy.

The kids, of course, bound us together.  Neither of us wanted a broken home, I because I had not come from one and he because he had, but they also put a lot of stress on our relationship.  I see this in retrospect.  Life brought out our own special demons and those demons were not on speaking terms.  (Had nothing to do with you kids.)

Our job bound us together.  We had worked together always and so had divided skills.  I did this, he did that.  Neither of us did all.  That was another stress, both vying to be in control.  I have met no one who has thought they could live with their spouse 24/7 much less work together.  But our work together was also part of the healing process, learning the pate de verre was born out of that.

There was also our constant devotion to each other though at times I think it was more a commitment to the commitment.

And, for me at least, there was that sense of pre-determination.  Destiny.  The rightness of us together.  The conviction that there was a reason for us to be together.  How could I have been so wrong?  When I started doubting that it was like the Universe was laughing at me.  Not a happy feeling.

Well, I’m glad we had all those ties that bind.  One less and we may not have made it to 33.  I think I saved his life.  I also think that he gave me mine.  A fair trade by any standard.

A lot of the intensity is gone now and I don’t miss it.  I don’t know if that is from going through the fire or just from living long enough.  We still get annoyed with each other now and then but here is what I learned.  When you love, you love warts and all.  

I’m looking forward to more.  I hope I am so blessed.