32 Years +

1986
Purgatory, Colorado

After living together for about five years and having our first child, we, actually I, decided to get married. Grant had been lobbying for years. But I was still hurting from the loss of my first marriage. He’d been divorced long enough to know hearts heal. I took a while to learn that. Plus alimony was my major source of income. I had to be practical

We were married on the back patio of my house. With the hope of keeping it simple, my girlfriends Sally and Marjorie made much of the food. Grant cooked chicken Marsala, and, to my dismay, his mother Hazel laboriously peeled all the tomatoes for the salad. I don’t think she ever ate a tomato skin in her life. Our extravagance was a crazily expensive, absolutely delicious raspberry-filled wedding cake from By Word of Mouth, a little restaurant no longer around.

July 10, 1988

The Rev. Kit Howell performed the service with vows he’d browbeating us into writing, Larry Bensen played the piano, and brother-in-law Paul sang the Beatles In My Life. I wore a pink silk dress I’d made, and Grant was in white linen pants and guayabera, which I think he still has tucked back in his side of the closet.
Mary wore the dress I’d crocheted for her cousin Laura, and Stephanie was pretty in pink.

At first, it seemed like nothing had changed, except, as a wife, I was now on Grant’s health insurance. Over time, and through participating in our marriage enrichment group, our commitment has grown from “it’s good now, we’ll see” (and some days it wasn’t) to  “through sickness and in health, till death do us part”.

2006
Did having the ceremony and signing the legal papers make a difference? My cynicism said no, it’s just a party and a piece of paper. However, our government has its thumb on the scale. Health insurance, joint income tax rates, inheritance laws all weigh towards legal marriage. Society pulls with its touting of princess-bride weddings and presents, presents, presents. The skids were greased, and I went along for the ride.

Thirty two years later, we cling to each other. Mostly it’s good, and the death till we part seems all too close in this pandemic. Growing old together has come much faster than we ever anticipated. But who knows, if we continue to be dealt great hands and play our cards right, we might see our golden anniversary. There better be presents. And cake.

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