1-8-12

Typically on Sundays we go to my parents’ house. Actually, we always go, not just typically. But my mom texted me and told me my dad had the flu all night, so we opted out of dinner at their house. Plus, Bec and Jud weren’t going since Sadie has chicken pox. So we’ve spent Sunday at home. I don’t know what to do when we spend a Sunday at home. It seems like the world is not right. Since we had such a fun day yesterday, I’m luckily not feeling all cooped up like I need to get out. I had a meeting this morning, then church at 11, and choir at 3pm. I made Spanish rice for dinner since I of course had no plans for dinner and happened to have at least a can of tomato sauce and rice for Spanish rice.

I was reading on Nie Nie Dialogues tonight, the blog by the burn victim Stephanie Nielson, and I stumbled upon one of her posts that contained this quote about love. It is perfectly true. In 30 years, I hope to look at my marriage and look beyond the giddyness of love and see something more substantial. I’ve seen enough to know what love is and what it is not. And while the butterflies are fun and so is the newness that is there when twitterpation has just begun, I need more than that. And I have more than that. I’m not in La La land with my husband. The newness is not there like it was when we were first starting and hanging on each and every anticipated word that the other person might say. We’re not googly eyed like we were all those many years ago. Ok, two years ago :). This is not to say that we what we have is not wonderful. Because it is far more wonderful than what we had when we were first dating and even first married. We have been through things together, loved each other through weaknesses, worked through kinks and comforted each other through tears. We have grown from two twitterpated newlyweds into two people who really know what love means. And that’s just after two short years. I can’t wait for the glorious love we will share in 30 years. That must be the stuff our parents have been talking about.
"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two." Louis de Berniers

My parents used to talk about this song by Lex de Azevedo called The Last Touch:
Their first touch at 17 was in the park,
the moon was full: she was beautiful to him,
and her hair was long and her eyes were blue and her skin was warm;
she turned to him, and he thought that he knew what love was.

Another touch at 22 on their wedding night,
the stars were bright: she was beautiful to him,
and her hair smelled sweet and her lips were full and her skin was warm;
she turned to him, and he thought that he knew what love was.

Then again at 25 when the baby came,
and the sun was high: she was beautiful to him,
and her hair was damp and her fingers shook and her skin was warm;
she turned to him, and he thought that he knew what love was

Later on at 54 sitting on the porch -
all the children gone: she was beautiful to him,
and her hair was gray and her forehead lined, her skin was warm;
she turned to him, and he thought that he knew what love was.

Their last touch at 85 was by her bed,
and the moon was full: she was beautiful to him,
and her hair was thin, her eyes were closed, her skin was cold;
she turned to him, and he knew now he knew what love was.
After 68 years of laughter and tears, he knew (now, he knew) what love was.

I think it is sweet, and I want to grow old and grey with my husband just like this.