He sweats for eight hours, caring for hundreds of trees and making medicine from their fruit. When he’s done, he comes home and shovels. Turns hard ground to make way for a family garden.
When a ten-year old asks him to pause and play soccer, he’ll spear the spade in the loose soil and give a hearty game. Run the field. Make and block goals. Laugh.
I’ve seen middle-aged ladies in mini-vans with bumper stickers that read, “I love my husband.” A pronouncement so conventional and ordinary, I’ve wondered why anyone would glue it to the body of their vehicle and drive about.
But now I’m married. And at 40, I’m officially ‘middle-aged.’ I may not have a mini-van, but there he is. Washing dishes at the sink. Replacing rusty screws on my license plate. Whistling some soothing tune through his lips, all the while. So often he opts for “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
And here I am. This wife who’s ready to find her decal and proclaim her gratitude to the world. Never having thought that ordinary could feel so rare.
The Bohemian and I had made a last-minute, end-of-the-day decision to go catch the sunset. We threw an orange, some crackers and two beers in a backpack, and made our way to one of our favorite spots on the island: the beach where we first met.
Once on the sand, we wandered along the shore, taking in the salt air, letting time slow. As my toes moved through infinite grains, I discovered a shard of pottery, its diamond-esque shape etched with a blue feather. Perhaps a harbinger of sorts.
Because little did I/we know that before that sun went down, we would be enraptured in an essence of love. Some all-encompassing infiltration that seemed to gleam in the light, reflecting off the sea, moving with the breeze in the trees.
There had been no plan on his part. But there it was. The Bohemian was feeling it, no words, but I could sense it.
So when the syllables finally moved from his mouth to the air: “Jessica Lynn Dofflemyer, will you marry me?” I soaked in every sound and searched deep within my heart.
There was love. Our love. This love. The all-encompassing Love with the capital L. A Love that is here for everyone.
Once in a while you find someone with whom you can share that love…it is a true treasure.
Four months ago, today, the Bohemian and I pledged our love for life.
I write that line and realize, that yes, we both love life and are quite committed to that enjoyment.
Read another way, and you’ll catch the meaning of what I initially intended. We made a commitment to our Love for a lifetime.
It seems longer than four months since we got married. We laugh that the ‘longer’ is felt in a good way. So close we feel, it’s as though we’ve been together many years.
I hope we get a long and vibrant life with each other. And in that expanse of time, that we can pass through the seasons in natural simplicity. Let the elements shape us. Ever-deepening our love. Sharing it with others.
Spring is in the air and garden plants hold fresh promises. Here’s to all things new and flowering.