Let no one claim
That love is false. Let no one
Tell a tale of love's dilution,
Cross his lips with doubt,
Or discuss the up and down and up
Of love chained to a balance beam -
Laundry and who takes out the trash.
Instead, let us make a pact:
To stop for this short time
The radio in our heads, the voices
Of discontent that drive us mad -
The committee of shoulds and oughts
And might have beens. The old harangue
Of never never never.
To forsake, for these next minutes
(Not for this couple but for ourselves),
All the symptoms of our days.
Then, together, let us swear,
That this sun, this sky, these vows,
This bubble balanced on the point
of a knife is all there is -
For we have pushed aside the walls
That close us in
To come to this shared space. And see -
We have filled the space with flowers,
Where love, like some bright bird
Too swift to hold,
May light for us a while and sing.
by Alice Friman
**Note - he found the poem, not I.
I said he was great, didn't I ???
Ok. I've searched the net for something poetic to say about marriage. Or something funny. Or something that somewhat parallels what I am feeling and loving and doing. But nothing reads right or rings true. My life is brimming with moments but lacking in words to describe it. This is as close to living in the moment as a red dirt girl can get. Bliss will do. Oh, and he told me to say he's a great guy. Which is true. He IS a great guy. And I'm happy and sleep deprived and working too many hours at work and somewhat overwhelmed with starting a new life that comes ready made with kids, a grumpy gaseous dog and an ex-husband who is almost always an ass (and I'm writing this sentence in Soub's POV because I was already overwhelmed by all of the above BEFORE the wedding vows were spoken.) But I promised to 'obey' and he endowed all his worldly goods to me (and promised to worship me with his body which made my kids gasp in horror - but I thought it was so sexy. Indeed it was so sexy that 'obey' popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.)
And that kind of sums up the ceremony along with pics of my oh-so-now I'm 21 and mature - son who posed repeatedly for the camera sitting in the judge's chair with his gavel pointed at an imaginary defendant. Which explains why for every one photo of Soub and me there are at least four of my kids clowning around in the judge's chambers. Sigh. I suppose I should have hired a wedding photographer.
Speaking of wedding pics, Soub and I have decided to not post any on our blogs. At least for now. Basically, the pics are making the rounds of friends and family and co-workers: people we love and care about but do not necessarily wish to have as readers of our blogs. Soub's container load of worldly goods arrived today. It contained a very cool Land Rover along with a particularly fine antique desk and a windsor chair made by his, umm, grandfather, I think. So I am definitely quite happy with my end of the endowment bargain. But I can't speak for him. He's asleep next to me.
And, actually, that's the best part about being married: he's here, sleeping next to me.