The Ocean
I was reading today about a couple on their wedding day, about their giddy smiles and the newness of their vows. My mind wandered back to our wedding day, to our first days together. Would I go back? Do I wish I could be back there again?
I smiled as the memories flooded my mind, but was surprised by my quick answer, No! Not for anything in the world. I loved those moments, lived them deeply. But what I have now is more beautiful than anything I could have imagined then. The stunning reality of what I have now sometimes takes my breath away.
I thought back over our vows. For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer. In sickness and in health. We often laugh to each other at weddings when we hear the words spoken. They're vows that are given in honesty, but how little we know of what they will look like lived out. No one could have told us that just three months after we spoke the words, in sickness and in health would put our own love to the test. No one could have told us that job losses, and medical bills, and houses that wouldn't sell would test us again and again for richer or for poorer. No one could have told us how I'd lay awake in the dark of the night, heart broken by fear, sobs shaking my body for better or for worse. It would be his arms that would reach out in the darkness and hold me. Just hold me.
Because that was what we vowed almost eleven years ago. Not that we wouldn't have for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or health. We knew, even in our naivete, that we would face them all. What we vowed was that we would face them together, that no depth of loss or pain or heartache would come between us in those moments.
We made another vow that day, to love and to cherish. To cherish each other. To cherish the moments. To live them fully, drink them deeply, to take from each day everything it could possibly hold for us. Maybe that's why I wouldn't want to go back. That's how we've lived for over a decade: no day wasted, no moment taken for granted. I've lived and loved all that I can in the days that have passed, and I'm satisfied to leave them there. What lies before me is the chance to do it all again, to soak up the fullness of what comes next.
There's no way to describe this kind of love that has grown and deepened and matured over time. Words fall short every time I try to describe the waves, the soaring heights and quiet valleys. I can't find a way to say what it's like to have someone look into your eyes and know you to the depth of your soul. It's like trying to describe a waterfall. I can paint a picture, but I can never embody with words the thunderous roar of the water falling over the rocks, the mist that hangs in the air and penetrates to the bone, the lush green that surrounds those places. No matter how eloquent, I could never give the full experience of standing at the base of a waterfall any more than I could describe a love that says, "The vows were only the edge of the ocean," even as I only now begin to plumb its depths.
Would I go back? Never. Not for anything in the world. That was nothing but a stream. We've made our way down its course, one day at a time, as the waters grew and opened and rushed on. What lies before me, and what we've only just reached, is the sparkling blue vastness of the ocean. In a lifetime, I could scarcely reach its boundaries, explore the fullness of its depths. I would never return to the stream, not with the vastness of this place before me. This, I have a feeling, is where the greatest adventures begin.
I smiled as the memories flooded my mind, but was surprised by my quick answer, No! Not for anything in the world. I loved those moments, lived them deeply. But what I have now is more beautiful than anything I could have imagined then. The stunning reality of what I have now sometimes takes my breath away.
I thought back over our vows. For better or for worse. For richer or for poorer. In sickness and in health. We often laugh to each other at weddings when we hear the words spoken. They're vows that are given in honesty, but how little we know of what they will look like lived out. No one could have told us that just three months after we spoke the words, in sickness and in health would put our own love to the test. No one could have told us that job losses, and medical bills, and houses that wouldn't sell would test us again and again for richer or for poorer. No one could have told us how I'd lay awake in the dark of the night, heart broken by fear, sobs shaking my body for better or for worse. It would be his arms that would reach out in the darkness and hold me. Just hold me.
Because that was what we vowed almost eleven years ago. Not that we wouldn't have for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or health. We knew, even in our naivete, that we would face them all. What we vowed was that we would face them together, that no depth of loss or pain or heartache would come between us in those moments.
We made another vow that day, to love and to cherish. To cherish each other. To cherish the moments. To live them fully, drink them deeply, to take from each day everything it could possibly hold for us. Maybe that's why I wouldn't want to go back. That's how we've lived for over a decade: no day wasted, no moment taken for granted. I've lived and loved all that I can in the days that have passed, and I'm satisfied to leave them there. What lies before me is the chance to do it all again, to soak up the fullness of what comes next.
There's no way to describe this kind of love that has grown and deepened and matured over time. Words fall short every time I try to describe the waves, the soaring heights and quiet valleys. I can't find a way to say what it's like to have someone look into your eyes and know you to the depth of your soul. It's like trying to describe a waterfall. I can paint a picture, but I can never embody with words the thunderous roar of the water falling over the rocks, the mist that hangs in the air and penetrates to the bone, the lush green that surrounds those places. No matter how eloquent, I could never give the full experience of standing at the base of a waterfall any more than I could describe a love that says, "The vows were only the edge of the ocean," even as I only now begin to plumb its depths.
Would I go back? Never. Not for anything in the world. That was nothing but a stream. We've made our way down its course, one day at a time, as the waters grew and opened and rushed on. What lies before me, and what we've only just reached, is the sparkling blue vastness of the ocean. In a lifetime, I could scarcely reach its boundaries, explore the fullness of its depths. I would never return to the stream, not with the vastness of this place before me. This, I have a feeling, is where the greatest adventures begin.
