Today, I was asked by a random stranger if I enjoyed being married. I told her that I am very happy.
She looked puzzled and stated that she’d heard that it’s hard and like being in prison.
I told her that it is hard in that you have to overlook a lot and to remove prideful thinking.
She said that she’s thinking about getting married and was afraid.
I heard myself say to her that she must remove from her mind what she imagines marriage to be and to clear from her mind whatever Hollywood has planted in her heart and mind.
I told her to see marriage as a governmental change. “He will continue to pluck your nerve and upset you. If he is your friend now, allow him to remain your friend. Be completely honest with him. He should the closet person to you. Keep everybody, including family out of your marriage. Yes, they may mean well, however, they don’t love him like you do, nor do they know your relationship like you do.”
She listened intently and replied, “I’m just afraid.”
“Tell him that”, I said. She turned to look at him and he looked down at her, smiled and asked if she wanted a coffee or would she be drinking his… she said she’d drink his… he complained a little and ordered a large. I giggled. He smiled.
She turned to me and he interrupted by revisiting their original discussion: the back pocket on her work pants wasn’t wide enough for his hand. He commented that his pockets would fit her hands to which she replied I never put my hands in your pockets… I leaned in and said, “you should, that way he’ll know how it feels.” She looked startled. I winked and walked away thinking that I maybe should have given her my number, but I didn’t turn back.
Wampum isn’t always brightly colored wooden beads. They can sometimes be precious hand-hewn shells. We’ve just got to learn how to tell the difference.
-to be continued
From the Desk of an Author 