together

August 14^th, 1976

I was 26 and he was 24

that's beer in our champagne glasses

Today is our 34^th anniversary.

You would think that if someone has lived with you for 34 years that they would know you, right?

“Granny hates to cook,” he tells our grandson.

“No I don't,” I say. “I like to cook. What I don't like is cooking and having to do the dishes both.” Since doing the dishes is my chore, I don't often cook or rather, I don't often cook dinner. At least not since several years after the kids grew up. I fix breakfast nearly every morning and sometimes I'll fix something for lunch if we don't have any leftovers. But dinner? Nope. Unless the grandkids are here.

It's not the first time he has made a statement to others about what I think or feel about something that has been totally wrong.

The above exchange got me thinking about how and when we form our opinions, our ideas of who people are. How many of his ideas, thoughts, assumptions, knowledge of me were formed years ago? How much of me in his mind is outdated, held stagnant in an opinion codified long ago, resistant to change, blind to my changes? How many of my opinions of him are old and no longer relevant?

We have different styles, he and I. I've got my head in the clouds and he's got his feet on the ground. I think that accounts for much of the clanging that goes on. I'm an optimist. I get an idea and I want to just dive right in solving problems as they arise, if they arise. He's a pessimist (although he does not agree with me on this). He wants to dissect every idea I get, take it apart, tell me all the flaws, every reason why it won't work or can't happen until all the fun is gone out of it for me. He wants to problem solve in advance and I want to go for the spontaneous adventure. I get frustrated and lose interest because what I want is a little enthusiasm for whatever hare-brained idea I've come up with, not a litany of why it won't work. He doesn't want to get started on something unless he has a plan and gets annoyed by my impatience.

We don't talk much either. We are mostly companions in silence. Heartfelt discussions are best had with sisters or friends. In this way we probably don't know each other very well. Talking about our personal feelings never did us any good, usually leading to fights. But here we are still together, all day every day. We've racked up more hours together than most marriages. No parting ways in the morning to our separate jobs and then spending a few hours together before bed. No, we share our lives 24/7 albeit mostly in different rooms these days.

There was a time when we were inseparable, joined at the hip. When we sat, we sat touching. When we showered, we showered together. When we slept, we slept on one pillow. When parted it was painful. Over the years we migrated to different chairs, began to shower at different times, added a pillow or two and for a number of years engaged in separate activities that parted us gladly. We had a span of years that almost parted us permanently.

But here we are, together for longer than we had been alive when we met. We are companions, friends, partners, lovers. We have raised kids, built a business, made choices and survived more than one maelstrom. I can't tell you why. We have just persevered. Maybe we are just habits. Maybe we accepted at some point that no one is perfect least of all ourselves. Maybe we prefer the jerk we know to the one we haven't met yet. Or maybe, it's because we can still make each other laugh, that we still believe in the feeling when we first met. Maybe it's because with every passing day, week, month, year we are even more intertwined.

Maybe it's simply because we are devoted to each other.