28 and 28 more and 28 more after that
My wedding anniversary is rolling around--the first week in September. This weekend my husband and I are planning a camping get-away. We actually spent our 15th wedding anniversary at the same place--a few days after 9/11. It was a crazy time, to say the least. You felt like anything could happen--because it had. The unthinkable.
We were out by ourselves in the dark woods, which sounds romantic, except not right after being attacked. Well, not me, but the US of A. I was still working through a lot of emotions. And, though, you might think it would be great to get away from the endless news cycle and media loops showing the two towers falling, turning to dust, and thousands of New Yorkers fleeing on foot--it also had the affect of making me feel stranded, without a safety net.
All I wanted was to know everything was going to turn out okay. But I had a feeling nothing was ever going to be the same.
Thirteen years later, we now know that was exactly the case. Two unresolved wars later and after hundreds of thousands of deaths nothing good has come from that blue-sky day when planes rammed into the Twin Towers.
I remember camping by a cove on the shores of Lake Michigan, beneath pine trees. An idyllic spot not withstanding the internal turmoil and fear. It was hard to forget what had just happened. Every moment felt like I was standing on a precipice.
And then, one morning we awoke and not too far out on the water were fifteen pairs of swans. It seemed to be some kind of message. Fifteen for each year we'd been married and cool because I knew swans mated for life. Were the gods of the universe trying to tell me something? I chose to believe they were.
So now, on our 28th wedding anniversary, I'm looking for another sign. We live in turbulent times of financial meltdowns, of aging and dying parents, of our kids struggling to make their way. Nothing is for sure. I guess it never has been. Marriage, especially. So we go hoping for more swans, loons, or maybe a family of racoons. Or simply nice weather.
Thank you universe, cosmos, super moons.
We were out by ourselves in the dark woods, which sounds romantic, except not right after being attacked. Well, not me, but the US of A. I was still working through a lot of emotions. And, though, you might think it would be great to get away from the endless news cycle and media loops showing the two towers falling, turning to dust, and thousands of New Yorkers fleeing on foot--it also had the affect of making me feel stranded, without a safety net.
All I wanted was to know everything was going to turn out okay. But I had a feeling nothing was ever going to be the same.
Thirteen years later, we now know that was exactly the case. Two unresolved wars later and after hundreds of thousands of deaths nothing good has come from that blue-sky day when planes rammed into the Twin Towers.
I remember camping by a cove on the shores of Lake Michigan, beneath pine trees. An idyllic spot not withstanding the internal turmoil and fear. It was hard to forget what had just happened. Every moment felt like I was standing on a precipice.
And then, one morning we awoke and not too far out on the water were fifteen pairs of swans. It seemed to be some kind of message. Fifteen for each year we'd been married and cool because I knew swans mated for life. Were the gods of the universe trying to tell me something? I chose to believe they were.
So now, on our 28th wedding anniversary, I'm looking for another sign. We live in turbulent times of financial meltdowns, of aging and dying parents, of our kids struggling to make their way. Nothing is for sure. I guess it never has been. Marriage, especially. So we go hoping for more swans, loons, or maybe a family of racoons. Or simply nice weather.
Thank you universe, cosmos, super moons.
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