We've been sitting in our tiny rented home here in Southern
California for the past weeks' rain. It's cold and way wet and
so soggy I can't walk on the grass without water running into
the tops of my boots. But, like living in Baja, it does give me
time to think. Time to settle in, do some home work daily and
think about what life will be like when I slow down, am no
longer a member of the workplace. The slower I go the more I
think I will enjoy it.
The other day, with rain pounding down, I was reflecting over
relationships. At least relationships where love is involved. I
was sharing a conversation with others and I had to think
quickly about the subject before I spewed my thoughts out. I
often don't do well with thinking quickly, as I like to chew on
my thoughts before I voice them. Maybe that's why I'm not big on
IM'ing. Besides, I can't type. Except by the hunt and pack
So, in my mind, I put relationships into two categories:
infatuation and maintenance. I know, there are many more, but
those are the two top ones.
They meet, fall in love and lust, get married, do a number of
years honeymooning all over the earth, live in Baja for a
summer, have children and spend 20 years in various forms of
love, attend T-ball and soccer games, do the laundry, outline
life for their children with principled ribbons, and grow into
what he, at least, thinks of as an immature maturity. They have
a love that confuses their sense of hearing to the point that it
stops working, the pulse-pounding, throbbing
when-will-we-start-our-family-issue, are all hitting them in the
face and dancing.
Somehow now the major early decisions of life and family are all
behind them and they are faced with the future, unknown. The
kids are gone and leave the parents wondering. They are still in
love. The definition of love may have changed somewhere along
the way. Its not like family is gone, but the children are
raised. Work and earned income are things soon to be of the
past. Love is as much part of the picture as it was during
infatuation, but its form has changed. If only a little. How
could it not? After living together 40 years?
But it all comes together. As we age we'll continue to find
varying ways in which we need each other. Those ways will always
be changing. In Baja, we'll be away, at least part of the time,
from our family and will redefine my two categories of
infatuation and maintenance. With our lives shifting,
rejuvenating themselves into a new structure of
just-the-two-of-us, I guess we might be entering a whole new
cycle. Maybe, on a stretch of sand on the east coast of Baja, we
might just experience the high drama we had when we first met.
It won't be quite the same. We know each other well now, our
good traits and bad. We've learned to live with them. But I know
there is more to experience.
It's out there, just waiting for us with a smile and a hug.