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Yesterday, the 7th of September, marked the twelfth anniversary of the day Mark and I married
A dozen years. Wow. That’s longer than I’ve ever been married to anyone, and that’s saying something. And happily, too … real wedded bliss. What a bonus.
In honor of the occasion, I’m inviting you to join me on a little stroll down Memory Lane …
In 1993 I was in year 12 of a relationship that was slowly driving me mad. I’d married the cause of my misery a few years previous … should have known better after living with him for half a decade … and tried to make a go of it.
One half of a tag team can’t wrestle effectively, however. My last effort was to seek outside help, so I found a professional listener. When I approached my dh du jour (and I can assure you, the ‘d’ does not stand for dear in this case), his response was so typical of the him that was him, that it effectively marked the middle of the end.
“I don’t know why I should go with you to see this ’shrink’,” he said. “After all, you may be miserably unhappy, but I’m not. In fact, I couldn’t be happier.”
Okay …
Cut to the chase, and I’ve donned my backpack and made for the airport with a ticket for various points east. Aside from logging a lot of air miles, I had few expectations. I made a couple of stops in the US, and a few more in Europe. Due to a serendipitous invitation, I headed to Seychelles.
Fate or coincidence put Mark on a plane from England at about the same time and dropped us within meters of each other. It took the occasion of my forty-first birthday, however, for us to meet.
Pow!
When asked about my feelings at the time, the only word that fits how I felt is “recognition.” Somehow, somewhere deep inside myself, I knew him, and I knew that I knew him.
This was not simply a case of what I think of as ‘love at first sight’, although it was that, too. More than jelly belly and weak knees, however, it was the sense of suddenly finding that arm or leg or lung I’d forgotten I’d lost, but now found I could not function completely without.
Continued…
