Married

I remember it well. I was wondering aloud, by the lake side, if Fiance #4 (now my husband) should be the one I would marry. (My friends had dubbed me the Original Runaway Bride two fiances ago). He was there, too. Reassuring me. He told me that he would "give me a life better than I could give myself."So I married him. I thought about that day as I scrubbed the the toilet today. And mopped the coffee stains from the kitchen floor. And vaccumed up ground-in Goldfish crackers out of the living room carpet. And unloaded/loaded/unloaded/loaded the dishwasher. And made the bed, once the dog had finally finished napping on it. And put a screaming baby to bed. And felt disconcerted when I called him to find out that he'd had a carefree, unattached lunch at Bergamo's while I was lucky to get Mrs. Paul's beer-battered fish filets.

And indeed I will never know what life I would've given myself.

But marriage is thus: tomorrow, all will be forgotten, forgiven. He will let me sleep an extra hour, and make me coffee. And he will go to his office to do trivial, menial things, all the while pondering the motorcycles, flight lessons, and beach condos that embodied the former plans of the once single man.

I know that marriage doesn't necessarily mean foregoing one's dreams. But they're so much easier to lose when you cease to live for yourself...