October 14: "Divorce," Married, I'm Sorry

Twenty-nine years ago today, my wife and I were married.

The day before was beautiful, warm and full of autumn colors.  I drove from Kalamazoo to the Upper Peninsula, convoying with one of my best friends from graduate school.  We stopped a few times along the way to take pictures.

The day of the wedding was a completely different story.  Cold, with occasional rain and (if I remember correctly) some sleet.  We posed for pictures near Lake Superior after the ceremony and nearly froze.  But we were surrounded by friends and family the whole day, and the future seemed endlessly bright.

Billy Collins sets the table . . . 

Divorce

by: Billy Collins

Once, two spoons in bed,

now tined forks

across a granite table

and the knives they have hired.

Admittedly, this isn't the best Billy Collins poem to write about on my wedding anniversary.  It's full of sharp edges and points.  More battleground than anything else.  But it's honest in its depiction of two people--once joined happily in spoonful love--separated by distance and a subtle violence.

Now, my marriage has had its share of rocky patches.  Two people sharing their lives for almost three decades are bound to face strains and disagreements.  We are both flawed human beings, and those flaws can create huge fissures and rifts in any relationship.  Yet, that very humanness is what has held my wife and I together all these years.

Because, you see, we both know that mistakes have been made and will be made.  We've both fucked up at times.  Yet, we love each other enough not to turn into tined forks across a granite table.  We've forgiven and will continue to forgive.  In any long-term relationship, there are two phrases that are very important:  "I love you" and "I'm sorry."  Both convey the same sense of hope.  There's that famous catchphrase from the movie Love Story:  "Love means never having to say you're sorry."  I will offer this revision:  "Love means always having to say you're sorry."  

Apologies aren't admissions of guilt.  They are pleas for love and understanding.  

I bought my wife cheesecake for dinner tonight.  We went for a walk with our puppy, and we've spent a quiet evening, reading and working.  She will soon head off to bed, and I will finish writing this blog post.  We still are paired spoons.

That's Saint Marty's dinner table.