The old song by The Proclaimers “I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500…” plays on repeat in my head. “Just to see you again” yet another lyric from another artist. Searching for words to soothe my heart and tend to my slaughtered soul.
I see you everywhere but nowhere. I long for a magical, earthly, celestial meeting place to hold your hand and share our breath. To merge as one, immersed within each other.
Twenty eight years of marriage. It’s getting easier now to watch the highlight reel of the weathered stitches woven into memories. Of traversed miles of back wood jeep rides. Of belly laughs and tears. Of sideline screams and quiet moments in shared stillness. Of love. Of the jagged potholes of a unity well lived. It’s the rawness of the reality of a time, of in the moments, of the things I wish I had said and those I wish I hadn’t.
If I could walk 10,000 miles I would walk one million more just to walk the path we walked before. To imprint those memories I’m so afraid to loose. As if the passage of time will tarnish and blur the kaleidoscope of my heart. My mind quickly eases into memories of the immediate past, ones I wish would blur and fade into a mere swath of the topographical landscape of our story.
28 years ago we made our vows. We kissed in the Catholic Church with vows of promises said out loud and those kept in our hearts. Always and forever. More than the flowers love the sun. In health. And sickness.
Once upon a time a goofy girl met a tall dark and handsomely quiet boy at a fraternity party. Somehow we’ve managed to balance the scale. 28 years, 4 kids, and lots of life lessons later, I would say “I do” again in a heartbeat.
Keeping (in)Sanity 