It feels like...
I've been thinking lately about whether being married has changed anything. My uncle asked me this yesterday and I wasn't really sure how to put it into words. Something is different, yes. But why? How?
Nine years ago we began dating and eight years ago we moved into together. Seven years ago we had twins. There has been a lot of motion and ruckus and doing and trying and effort in this gig, but under all that there was always a sense of calm. A belief that it would be okay, that we would make it. I was always happy to hear Aaron walk through our door and that alone carries a lot weight. But there is something different happening, something that wasn't there before or at least not to this degree.
My dad suggested it was a peacefulness or a settling. That's close but not quite it.
The way I see it is that up until now, we chose every day to be together. Whether it was unconscious or conscious, when you aren't legally bound to a person, you choose daily to stay together. When you don't need lawyers or a judge, what keeps a couple together if not a choice? In fact, this was my reasoning to not get married in the first place. I saw it as a strength in our relationship, that we were choosing daily to be together. We could walk anytime we wanted to, but we decided to stay. The day of our wedding, we made one big choice for all the days to follow. So now, that choice has been made. There is no emotional energy to spend in this decision. It just exists.
The question then becomes, What does that feel like? Where do you put that energy?
It feels like peace, contentment, and happiness.
It feels like you imagine it would when you're a ten year old little girl imagining what your wedding day will be like.
It feels like all the things you spent years trying to do magically happened of their own will.
It feels like caramel in the center of a chocolate bar or a perfectly brewed cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.
It feels like fate.
It feels like where there was once something to do, now there is only something to be.
I wish I could write it better. I wish I could look up the right word and just type that and it would be there and it would define it simply yet thoroughly. But no such word exists. Shakespeare wrote sonnet after sonnet trying to define it, to somehow quantify what it feels like and he never got it quite right (at least that's what he said).
If I had to choose one word:
Nine years ago we began dating and eight years ago we moved into together. Seven years ago we had twins. There has been a lot of motion and ruckus and doing and trying and effort in this gig, but under all that there was always a sense of calm. A belief that it would be okay, that we would make it. I was always happy to hear Aaron walk through our door and that alone carries a lot weight. But there is something different happening, something that wasn't there before or at least not to this degree.
My dad suggested it was a peacefulness or a settling. That's close but not quite it.
The way I see it is that up until now, we chose every day to be together. Whether it was unconscious or conscious, when you aren't legally bound to a person, you choose daily to stay together. When you don't need lawyers or a judge, what keeps a couple together if not a choice? In fact, this was my reasoning to not get married in the first place. I saw it as a strength in our relationship, that we were choosing daily to be together. We could walk anytime we wanted to, but we decided to stay. The day of our wedding, we made one big choice for all the days to follow. So now, that choice has been made. There is no emotional energy to spend in this decision. It just exists.
The question then becomes, What does that feel like? Where do you put that energy?
It feels like peace, contentment, and happiness.
It feels like you imagine it would when you're a ten year old little girl imagining what your wedding day will be like.
It feels like all the things you spent years trying to do magically happened of their own will.
It feels like caramel in the center of a chocolate bar or a perfectly brewed cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.
It feels like fate.
It feels like where there was once something to do, now there is only something to be.
I wish I could write it better. I wish I could look up the right word and just type that and it would be there and it would define it simply yet thoroughly. But no such word exists. Shakespeare wrote sonnet after sonnet trying to define it, to somehow quantify what it feels like and he never got it quite right (at least that's what he said).
If I had to choose one word:
per·fect/ˈpərfikt/
| Adjective: |
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| Verb: |
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| Noun: |
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| Synonyms: | adjective. complete - absolute - consummate - utter - thorough verb. improve - complete - finish - accomplish | |
Almost right.
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