(From the 2012 Archives…what’s old is new again…life is a circle…same sh*t/different day)
(I originally wrote this Blog a month ago and in my haste to post it lost it due to a “no signal” message which suddenly scrolled across the monitor just as I was about to hit “publish” button. Of course, Reader that was in the early writing days of the Blog when I was foolishly typing on the site. After that experience, I went back to my traditional composing/ rewriting/editing method on a Word document before transferring it to the Blog site).
…This topic came about following a conversation with a close friend who casually mentioned it was her Anniversary. In fact she recounted laughingly (not a word) that she had been married 34 years and did not realize it until a church member pointed to the Announcement in the church bulletin that Sunday. Surprise, Surprise. I assumed this was her hubby’s way of making this fact known to the congregation and also to his unsuspecting wifey. She said they generally never celebrated their Anniversary by doing anything special and this one would have gone by unnoticed as well.
…Thirty four years with the same person…waking up..going to bed..sitting across from the breakfast/lunch/dinner table…stumbling over underwears/shoes left in the floor…sharing/squeezing out the same toothpaste tube….doing the ..hurry up I got to use the bathroom dance...bickering about the remote/the credit card balance/the kid’s report cards/the water you forgot to put in the ice tray…AND she didn’t remember? How is that possible?
…In a relationship where the couple has weathered the storms of marital harmony and escaped the divorce monger (we are still at 50% survival rate), I guess it is easy to forget about the years that have slipped by preferring to focus on other daily challenges that life presents. How nice it must be to know that this area of one’s life is safe and under control…while jobs/career plans/health/finances/children/cars/foreclosure/bankruptcy/student loans/aging parents/etc.. all conspire to make life a hurdle and not a sprint.
…I had to pause for a moment and literally count the number of couples I knew who were similarly situated. Maybe not 34 years but still in the marriage game. Alas, the number was not many. The number of friends/colleagues/associates who are in the ranks of the divorced far outweigh the equally yoked crowd. And this Reader, I found to be quite sad.
…I am a self-proclaimed Romantic (not the tree hugging Wordsworth kind, I am more of the Zora Neale ilk), I believe in love. Just the other day a man I was unashamedly flirting with, asked me what is the one thing you want in life? Without pause, I responded LOVE. Not peace, not an end to world hunger, not a BMW, not a winning lottery ticket…(those would be nice of course)..but LOVE.
…As a young girl growing up in the 60s, I fantasized with my fellow playmates about falling in love. Back then it was Kookie from 77 Sunset Strip or Efrem Zimbalist Jr. who made us all go faint at the thought that they would leave Hollywood and come home to us in Victory Manor after a long, hard day on the set. This affinity and belief in love stayed with me through the terrible junior high years when I struggled to understand who I was. A skinny, darkskinned girl with long, thick hair and a nose too wide for her face. Who everyone agreed was smart as a whip and with that smile and that distinctive voice would certainly go far in life.
Gurl, you proved them right didn’t you…go head!
…All I really ever thought about was when would someone ever love me as much as I loved them. Of course, the fact that I was terrified of boys with their parts that could make a girl big like a watermelon did not help much in the boyfriend game. So I spent long hours tucked away in the stacks at Blyden library reading every romance novel from Jane Eyre to Lessons of Desire And the stack of True Romance that I kept hidden under my mattress allowed me to vicariously experience this thing called love (or was that lust?) Same thing…Ah just kidding.
…High School brought concerns about fitting in, finding my place in a newly integrated world where I was a foreigner. Instead of the usual boyfriend/girlfriend/whatarewedoingSaturdaynite issues, I was busy trying to navigate the world of MHS and avoid the spitballs, obscenities, fights, threats that accompanied a typical school day. But I had chosen to enter this battlefield while my friends attended historic, all black BTW across town because I was in search of a different experience. I eventually found my place in Mr. Comer’s journalism class and under his guidance became the author of a monthly column, Over the Wall, which temporarily took the place of a boyfriend and opened me to the wonders of writing.
A column takes the place of a man….girl you must have bumped your head?
Writing became my solace, my girlfriend, my boyfriend, my safe place to fall…my love.
…Did it stop me from seeking a man to love? Of course not. If you have read those excerpts from my Memoir/Fiction (publication still pending…waiting for all the 50 Shades hoopla to die down) you know that I am the proverbial seeker of love (in all the right/wrong Places). From the days in heady L.A. to nights in Virginia is for Lovers, I have sought love. And sometimes it has sought me in return. Despite this quest, unfortunately, I cannot claim 34 years of marital bliss. Life had another path for me….one that involved lots of stops and starts…and multiple leaps over the broom. Am I disillusioned, burned out, broken hearted, walking wounded, stickaforkinmeI’mdone with Men?
Sometimes. Some days. But not many.
Most days I am hopeful… like Janie in Their Eyes Were Watching God, I too am looking at the pear tree waiting for love to find huh. And smiling at the memory of my friend’s 34 years that just seemed to whiz by without her noticing that she is still loved and in love
Love and Light!