JUST LIKE HEAVEN

Here’s the funny thing about my dating history with Michael. We never dated. He never proposed. No bended knee. Rather, a clear and confident inner knowing. This is my person.

One day, early in our relationship, I entered Michael’s home, heels clacking to the excitement of new love. He looked at me standing in the doorway and cheerfully announced, “Oh good, you’re here. When I see your face, I hear this ...” He pressed play. A long note signals attention. Then. The dawn of love daybreaks into Ennio Morricone’s, “Debra’s Theme”. Listen to the song and you will see my silhouette, falling against the doorframe as the sound echoed in the chambers of my heart and my spirit recognized forever. Life and love and everything in between. Within another human being. Accompanied by one magnificent drawn out note. 

Seven years ago today, we were married in Montana. Guests perched atop a hill overlooking the valley, parasols in hand to shield faces from the last rays of the setting sun. At magic hour, I rode up over the face of the mountain in a wagon pulled by black horses. A violin sounded. Dragging a long familiar note ...

Seven years. One cannot earn that marital stripe without also recognizing “The Itch.” In my own experience, this itch is more of an unpeeling. After seven years, you have mined a hell of a lot of layers. Minerals, gems, toxicity, diamonds in the rough. Scientifically, the seven year cycle is significant. According to researchers, the body replaces itself with a largely new set of cells every seven to ten years. Psychologically and spiritually, a pivotal point of possibility occurs for reinvention for many people every seven years. 

As I observe the granules of sand through my own seven year hourglass, the passing of time simply blows my mind. Some days feel as though Michael and I have been together only a few weeks, teenagers in love. Other days we’ve been joined all our lives and nothing before ever existed. Only our memories take residence within the space of the heart. Country music. Whiskey. Jasper. Montana. County Fairs. Handfuls of Ketchup. Cotton Candy. Home. Motorcycle rides. A broken Foot. Cats. Dogs. Movies. Our family. Our life. 

Let me fill you in on a little secret. Marriage is hard. Agonizing at times. This disclosure may seem questionably unromantic upfront, however, I beg to differ. To me, the seismic nature of the challenge is what makes the commitment so exceptionally beautiful. We live in a modern day world full of perceived perfection, rarely revealing the hardships, which undoubtedly contribute to life’s most critical building blocks. Life can be complicated and painful. Nothing is perfect. Emotions are fleeting and temporary. Chemistry ebbs and flows. Give me hard core steadfast unwavering commitment any day of the week, even if things get tough.  Especially then. When two people are tethered together, scaling Everest daily, slipping and falling and gripping and stretching... expect some daring edges. To throw your stake in the sand — at the top.

We individually evolve as human beings. In relationship, we grow together and apart. That dance naturally occurs with time. There are moments in life — and yes, between partners, that are so difficult, so uncomfortable, so excruciatingly aching, that in doubtful moments we ask ourselves, is this finally it? Have we found the edge of  the planet? The one we nurtured and cared for, seeded and plowed, memories born and cherished for nearly 3,000 global spins together? Is this when we finally enter deep space and can no longer find our way back to one another?

Dawn breaks. In life’s most barren and deserted moments, I hear a long particular note. And I know. This is the exploration of love and life. The demand from one another to keep going. To grow. To become better people, to deepen the love. And to earn it. I dare you to find an image more romantic than the notion of eternal deep space exploration of the soul with another human being.

I love you, my astronaut. To infinity and beyond. I love you.