Forty-Five Years—Holy!

Randy & Cathie 002

We received an invitation to celebrate a forty-fifth wedding anniversary. As I was mulling over the invite my brain slipped back in time.

At eighteen, I’d moved from our small village to the big city some 23 km (14 m) away. I was primed and ready to taste the wild life. And trust me, I had a right fine time! Then along came this mysterious, dark-natured fellow so unlike any hometown guy I’d ever mooned over or mucked with. And, of course, being a Scorpio I fell in love with his image.

Flash forward sixteen or so years; the mystery had dispated like most fogs do and the love was suffering a slow death. But I was still hanging on—more so because I was the last one in my immediate family to still be married to their first partner and I was determined to break the pattern. So I refused to acknowledge the daily crying as anything but me being a drama queen.

Finally, life stepped forward and slapped me right in the ego hard enough to wake me up and everything fell apart.

I admitted defeat.

But not for long. Now—I thank my first husband for many things: Our son, our adventures in the early years. More importantly—the painful times we had because they forced me to grow up. Without that ugly split I certainly wouldn’t have become savvy enough to recognise what I really wanted. Nor would I have become courageous enough to keep chasing Man-wonder until he stopped running.

He and I will celebrate seventeen years this year and I am grateful to say we still giggle together like a pair of goobers and we still hold those signs of our love high. We may never see forty-five years together but we’ll die trying.

One last note: The invitation requested ‘no gifts’.Magnificantly wise—after all—what mere materialistic gift could compare to forty-five years shared?

Lucky buggers.

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