I have been married to Paul for 4,684 days and only God knows how much longer this marriage is going to last.
A couple of weeks ago we were driving around a mountain in Maine. The Fall color was at it’s peak and the sun was shining brightly. The grass was still green and the sky a deep and cloudless blue. At times a light wind would pick up and curtains of golden leaves would billow and roll, some across the road in front of us. It was an achingly beautiful day. Paul sighed into the silence and said, “I hope I get to live a long life with you.”
I don’t know if he will.
Please know that I committed to him and I am confident in his commitment to me, but how can anyone know how many days will be allotted him?
I was thinking about this the other night as we were coming to peace after three days of strain and discord. Three days of sorrow and unease – what a waste. In that moment I saw so clearly that the days of our marriage are limited and that one day one of us will be able to tally their number.
I truly believe only one of us will. The other will be dead and, again, only God knows exactly what he or she will be doing. The living will remain with the knowledge of the years we shared and the weight of the immediate future alone. And there will be regrets; there already are.
The other night, lying in the dark, my face wet with tears I told Paul I didn’t want to squander any more time. I hope, I pray, that we have years and years left together.
And I am going to live like we have only days.