Well Worn

I'm trying to figure out how to pace and fill this blog. My original intention was to utilize it as a place to house and share some of the poetry I've written, but I fear that might appear tedious and self-indulgent over time. That is assuming anyone reads this in the first place, so I don't suppose it really matters! Until I am spurred into social commentary it's about all I have to offer. That, and random thoughts that come to mind when my brain is idle for a while.

Scotty and I have been married for 47 days. A co-worker is celebrating her 1 year wedding anniversary tomorrow. As we passed each other at the water cooler this afternoon she made a comment that the honeymoon is officially over for them as of tomorrow evening. Which got me thinking about how important this first year of married life is to me, about how differently our relationship feels as husband and wife, in spite of the five years we have spent together prior to that one beautiful day on the beach when we said "We do".

I understand now why people keep asking me how it feels to be married. It's supposed to be more than it was before. And it is. It is somehow bigger, somehow more important than it was, even though nothing has really changed. Which gives me hope that when we reach that one year mark, rather than falling blindly off the edge of the honeymoon period and resignedly accepting that the excitement is over and the future is nothing more than a conveyor belt of squabbles and weight gain and mounting debt, there might actually be another subtle, imperceptible shift that occurs at that milestone, just as it did 47 days ago, knitting us closer together with a strength of heart and a vision for the future that reminds us of why we chose each other in the first place.

I wrote this a couple of years ago after Scotty and I went to a Broadway show together. I think it may have been Les Miserables, which was a disappointing revival of one of my favourite shows. We were sitting behind an elderly couple who could not have been happier to be there or more content in each others company. It made me wonder if Scotty and I would stand the test of time quite so well.

Well Worn

Her hand fits inside his so easily
Finding it's way into the space worn in after all these years
Day after day smoothing away the rough edges
And becoming comfortable

He leans close to her face
And whispers something said a thousand times
She fusses a little more than he likes
But they are used to each other
He pats her knee
And they settle into the seats they claimed as their own so long ago
The routine they claimed as their own so long ago
These are good seats

He still insists on polished shoes and a crisp shirt
And she keeps every Playbill
In a shoebox in her closet
A history of countless nights talking over coffee
After the curtain comes down

I am fond of old men who dress for the theatre
Who have read every line on this page
On this face
And still let themselves lose themselves in yet another story
While remembering with a smile the follies of their youth
I am fond of old ladies who rouge their cheeks
And wear too much Chanel No. 5
Who refuse to wear flat shoes
And can teach me the value of an Yves St. Lauren suit

Me
Me and my vintage Levi's and bare feet
Knotted beneath me on this velvet chair
Me and my diet coke and peanut M&M's
And hopes and pains and holding of breaths
Waiting for my future to appear on this stage
Waiting for my future to whisper and fuss
And if we're lucky
Maybe wear as well as they have