Weathered

It could merely be from anticipation, but I’m sure I’m not misinterpreting the signs. The leaves have begun to turn and a few have drifted to the ground. Mums have started appearing at the supermarket and on a few porch steps. And my calendar announces it: fall is near.

Fall is my favorite time of year. I love the warmth of pumpkin spice lattés and the comforting embrace of long sleeves. I love saying grace and giving thanks while gathered around a table overflowing with food and cheer. And I love a special date marked on my calendar in the fall of every year.

That date marks the beginning of a sacred bond with my husband, the man who knows me best. He has celebrated my triumphs and successes and helped me work through my secrets, fears, and failures.

He knows me, my every detail, my inside and out.

He comforts me when I am sick, frustrated, or confused, and provides safety when I am scared.

He is my voice of reason when I am full of anger and despair.

He is my friend, my partner, and a steady constant in my life.

~

There’s just something intriguing to me about an old, timeworn barn. Even surrounded by overgrown grass and rusty farm machinery, the timeless structure speaks to my heart.

The peeling paint and empty holes, where slats of boards were once nailed, seem to proclaim, “I survived. I made it through the storm and blistering heat. I endured the icicle- laden winters. I basked in the comfortable fall days.”

Ragged, tattered, and frayed, the wood has a history that I wish it could share.

~

When my husband, Dwayne, and I were moving from our first home to where we are now, I knew I wanted an old house with a story. I wanted a place that had stood the test of time and had the “character” to show it.

I was beyond thrilled when we found our old farmhouse. It had a story, and an amazing view.

I couldn’t wait to show our parents.

They did finally get to see it, and they loved the view too, but their faces didn’t share in all my joy and excitement. They didn’t see my vision. They saw all the needed repairs: a rotting front porch, a water-stained ceiling, a few soft spots in the floor.

Still, I loved my old farmhouse. All I saw was all that I wanted it to be.

When I married Dwayne, I had a vision of all I wanted our marriage to be.

I wanted us to be “that couple,” celebrating our golden anniversary.

I wanted us to be “that couple,” old, weathered, and timeworn, helping each other get our walkers through the door.

Dwayne and I have poured over 22 years into our home, and almost 24 into our marriage. We have replaced porches, windows, walls, and ceilings. We have cried tears of joy with every addition to our family and tears of sorrow with every loss.

We have weathered life together through the comforts of fall and the harsh nights of winter. And though we haven’t realized every vision, we feel satisfied by how far we have come.

~

Marriage is a union. A fusion. A blending of two lives into one.

It’s where you laugh together, cry together, and weather life together.

It’s good days of laughter, health, and joy.

It’s bad days of tears, sickness, and trials.

It’s nights of endless passion and nights where the couch sleeps just fine.

It’s opening your heart and your soul, and letting someone else come live inside.

~

To have and to hold…till death do us part.