"Marriage is those two thousand indistinguishable conversations, chatted over two thousand indistinguishable breakfasts, where intimacy grows like a slow wheel. How do you measure the worth of becoming that familiar to somebody - so utterly wellknown and so thoroughly ever-present that you become an almost invisible necessity, like air?"
While Mr. Right and I are not married - yet - we have been together for almost 8 years. Even now, he has become one of those "invisible necessities" for me. As sappy and cliche as it sounds, he truly makes everything in my life better. When I think of my favorite memories of us, it's not the big, exciting events that come to mind, but a mental collage of some of our simple, every-day moments. Whether we have the next 50 years or 5 months to spend together is unknown to me. What I do know
is that I look forward to those thousands of indistinguishable moments because
they are what really count.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Early Morning Wake-Up Call
This morning, I woke up to the message that I've dreaded for sometime. Mr. Right had text messaged me and said that he had been in an accident on his way to work this morning. My phone was on silent all night and when I woke up 3 hours after he sent the message, I panicked in my fuzzy-eyed-just-waking-up state.
The few minutes it took me to contact him after waking up were gut-wrenching. In his text, he had said that he was okay. However, Mr. Right tends to downplay issues for my sake. I wondered if he was hurt and how bad he might be hurt. I felt the same terrifying feelings that he must've felt when I was in a car accident 4 months ago. Anyway, when I spoke with Mr. Right, he had gone on to work and said everything was fine. Huge sigh of relief there!
Anyway, I got to thinking for a few brief seconds about what my world would be like without him. A few years ago, I almost found out. Mr. Right had been complaining about pains in his side for several days, but we assumed that he had pulled a muscle because his job involves heavy lifting. However, he had appendicitis. By the time we finally got him to the ER, his appendix had ruptured, gangrene had set in, and he had to have emergency surgery. (Remember, I said that he tends to downplay things...) A doctor later told me how close I was to losing him and that thought stays with me in the very deepest corners of my mind.
Isn't it funny that sometimes you read something applicable to your own life exactly when you need it? In Committed, Elizabeth Gilbert writes: