Building got the better of me this past week; no time to write, with a huge push to get the roof built.

Seems like all work and no play… yet tomorrow we’re taking off… something special to celebrate…the roof is built (metal comes this next week) and our anniversary is today.

For now, I’m just sharing this, because this is what matters most: LOVE. For those who have stuck it out together through hard knocks and tough times, and found yourself belonging in the shared place and space of long term love – something I never thought I’d be lucky enough to experience – I hope you’ll relate to this:

funny that all it takes

is opening eyes

to see

that you are there

beside me

right where we belong

Twenty-two years ago today, we married. We committed to become the family we chose. And in those  years, we learned what unconditional love, duty and devotion, kindness and forgiveness feels like.  In those years, we learned and grew, we flourished and failed, we longed and lusted and feared and found footing to stand strong, and we moved and built more than I’d like to admit.

It’s been a wild ride. The only stability was our love. Of each other. Our son. And the high wild lands where we choose to live. No matter how hard things got, how lost we felt, how tired we became, at the end of each day (or sometimes it took until the morning after) we knew we were no longer alone. And we knew someone else was counting on us, relying on us, needing us. So you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get back to work beside one another right where you belong.

Now we are here. In person and place and time.

Slowly we have settled in, learning the lay of the land, the feel of dried grass beneath bare feet or mud caked on our boots. Listening to the wind, tasting the water, letting the first sun of morning fall across our rawhide faces, allowing our fingers to find their place in the others hand when we walk. Finding our place, here.  Finding the balance of lust and longing, energy and exhaustion, dirt and discomfort, strain and stress as we kept on keeping on building the dream – our family home and mountain homestead. Something we both wanted, together.

So it went, and so it still goes. Building together. A safe place to bring dreams to life.

Sitting at a different kitchen table, gazing out at a different view, things are different here. The mountain, the river, the elevation and air. Even the bears and birds and colors of the season as it begins to fade and summer browns and sky grays and we start to look up at distant peaks to see if snow has fallen yet.

Our relationship is different now. A little less spark but more warmth from the coals and that is what cooks the stew. And like the stew that has been simmering and been stirred and added to with care and taste and time, together we are each richer within than either of us imagined had we not chosen one another.

Maybe I am different, too. Not in spite of what we went through. But because of it. I am more. I am fuller. I am deeper and wiser. In part because of you. In part because of time. Aging is beautiful thing. At least, most days I think it is.

The wisdom of aging is perhaps best found in the skill of knowing what baggage to leave behind.

You cannot outrun the past. The past is the path that led you to where you are today.

In moving, you leave where you were behind. In a way, you leave who you were behind as well. You become the blank slate. The clay upon the potters’ wheel. You are both the clay and the hands that shape it.

In remaining, however, you face the challenge of your past lingering all around you like last years leaves that still need to be raked, and overgrown underbrush that catches and tangles as you try to walk through the woods. But you know your way through and sometimes there is comfort in knowing  what to expect, what it will feel like, how bad it can be.

And how good.

Together we have done both.

Now is the time for re-writing. Not based upon where you are, but who you are.

The answers are not found out there. They are found in here. Within.

Perhaps where I should have looked all along.

But even inside, the landscape has changed. I wasn’t then who I am now.

It takes making the journey to understand the path.

It takes travelling the path to become the traveler.

Marriage is like that. At least it can be.

A mysterious path beckoning you to come hither.

A safe place in which you both can soften.

A healthy place in which you both can continue to be nourished, nurtured and thrive.

As the simmering stew, or the garden bed, deeper and richer and fuller with time.

So is my love for you.

Until next time,

With love, always love,                                                                                                   

Gin