2015 has been an amazing year, perhaps because I had a few successes with poems getting published.
Or perhaps it’s because I met an extraordinary woman and set about to convince her that damn near each and every one of my 175 pounds was worth her time, and once she was convinced I merged my household into hers and we toasted to our future, and whatever it holds, and to the fact that her house was now our home, to include the two dogs, three cats, a Zojurishi rice maker, a Fender Stratocaster, three drills, a chainsaw, and a set of strangely satisfying shot glasses adorned with the faces of former-Soviet premiers, then sat back smiling with her as we watched our friends and family members scratch their heads, sometimes militantly, as they tried to reconcile the speed with which we were moving, especially once we announced that we intended to marry, which we did, on July 24, my mother’s birthday (may she rest in peace).
The above is commonly referred to as a run-on sentence, and that’s how amazing 2015 has been.
But I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m calm enough now to let someone in, fully, a strong woman who accepts the entire thing and all its foibles, a person who gladly quadruples as best friend, confidante, advisor, and co-conspiratorial merry prankster, an ultra-kind and loving human being who believes in me just as much as I believe in her, someone who will gladly follow my dumb ass up to the roof during a full lunar eclipse–most likely out of curiosity alone–and isn’t too surprised when she sees that I’ve pre-positioned a bottle of wine beside a couple of blankets. Someone who was bold enough to dare me, early on, to “be intentional,” which I certainly was.
That’s a run-on sentence as well.
Or maybe it’s because these days, in those moments when I’m alone and listening to the birds squabble from the overhead lines, instead of enjoying the solitude I used to love I find myself waking her to suggest she join me, and then gladly and happily leaving her alone when she kindly informs me she needs a little more sleep.
None of us knows, not really, what it is we’re doing here. We think in terms of purpose, and from that we shoot off into 10,000 different directions. I now know my purpose, and for the first time in my life I’m enjoying the passage of time.
With my wife.
And that’s all that matters.