Questa è Enida

I was.
I was actually going to say something smart and beautiful after typing that expected ‘Congratulations!’ in my comment to a friend who just tied the knot last weekend. But I didn’t. Not that I think that wedding or marriage as not a smart or a beautiful decision. No, I am not bitter about holy matrimonies just because mine was rocky. Heavens no! In fact, I think my marriage has become smarter and more beautiful because it was rocky. Was.

But if I were to share a smart and a beautiful lesson I treasure most in my imperfect marriage, I would say: that through all the fights with words, be gentle…and through all the fights with silence, hold each other’s hands.

I must admit, it was the gentleness we felt in each other throughout the years that brought us back together. The memories of how natural it has been, reaching out for each other’s hand everytime after we lock the door behind us, or when we get off the car, or cross the streets, or even when we are driving (his hand would tuck right under my thigh), so naturally, and so for lack of better word… automatically.

We…
We made the promise on the land of fjords. Drove half of the downunder island, crossing the tropics of Capricorn and back. Strolled across the sunflower fields throughout the pizza-n-pasta land. Ran across the Alps, down on the autobahn through those countries and on to the Viking mounds. Warmed each other’s lips on Eiffel on windy Christmas eve. Pushed hard on two labor beds, raising monchies in three continents. Hand in hand.

So, if one thinks a three-week rendezvous in Spain complete with its Spanish drama would beat a palisade that has endured forty seasons…one must have just been born yesterday. Or one must have been spending one’s whole whale life looking for love in a ditch. Or a garbage can, for that matter. I am glad I didn’t try to say anything smart or beautiful.

Esa mujer de la ballena sigue siendo una basura.