H is for hope

One of Piper’s favourite places to sit is in front of the glass doors that lead from our sun room to our deck. It gives her a great view of the birds & chipmunks & squirrels at the feeder, the ducks on the shore, the pigeons and gulls and herons flying by, and, the deer that occasionally walk along the beach. Sometimes deer visit the deck, sometimes they help themselves to greens from the garden. 

We saw them the other morning, and I don’t think Piper left her spot the entire time I was at work. I’m sure she kept watch (in-between naps). They had come by once, they might come back again. 

I am not so different from my cat. Sometimes Doug makes a joke, or asks a question, or says something that sounds so like an ordinary sentence in response to the current discussion. For the rest of my visit I hang on to the hope that it wasn't a one-off. He appeared to be lucid once, that lucidly might come back again. 

I am not a mind-reader, though I’m getting better and better - I think, I hope - at deciphering clues in order to understand Doug’s non-verbal communication. I consider myself an expert at the art of the one-sided conversation. I award myself an Oscar several times a month for acting cheerful when I want to weep, strong and and capable when I feel inadequate and weak.

"I think of her every time I pull deadheads, a few when I walk by, and scatter them across the lawn.  And though I rarely visit aquariums, when I do, I find the moon jellies and watch them glide down through the water like a sky full of parachutists and think of death and regret.    

       And then I remember the hope.

       The beautiful moments of hope." (from my short story, Moon Jellies)

Apparently I have always believed in the power of hope. 

Onwards, with love. 

Happy Anniversary to Us!

 

These are the two wedding photos I chose to post on Social Media on Wednesday to celebrate our ninth wedding anniversary. 

At the moment when this one was being taken, I was reciting my vows, written using the extended metaphor of a long walk, because walking was such an important part of our courtship and relationship. 

“Doug, I chose to walk through life with you, and you alone. At times I may rush ahead - but I will always stop and wait for you. At times I may fall behind - but I will always catch up to you.  

Together we will navigate this journey. When we have to climb a seemingly endless hill, we can stop and admire the view while we catch our breath. When we get lost, we’ll use compass and map to find a route home. In times of sorrow I will comfort you, in times of joy I will celebrate with you; I will love you always.

I will point out the beauty in cold, wet weather as I do in warm sunshine, and cherish the everyday moments as well as the wondrous. At bumps in the road I will stay the course, at forks in the path let’s decide jointly which direction to follow.

I promise we will travel as husband and wife through stormy days and still, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, all the days of our lives until death do us part.”

Five years ago we spent our anniversary in Melton Mowbray, back in England for my summer job (teaching at Churchill College, in Cambridge).

We spent our Honeymoon walking Hadrian’s Wall and the Speyside Way. Halfway through the walk we decided we’d celebrate our tenth anniversary retracing our steps, allowing ourselves more time so that we could fully explore all the museums (and distilleries!) (and pubs!) en route. 

We  were confident our marriage wouldn’t fail (as I hope every honeymooning couple is!); it never occurred to us that in a decade’s time (less), Doug would no longer be able to walk any distance. 

Our wedding was a happy, happy day, and exactly what we had planned and wished for. A gathering of our beloved friends and family who witnessed our vows which we said in the garden of my childhood home, overlooking the Ottawa River. From Elise Joy Blaha Cripe  I borrowed a tradition which has become more precious than I could ever have imagined it would. We used cards as table numbers, and we asked the guests to write notes inside them.

My sister has kept all the cards, and sends us the corresponding one each year; this year she delivered it with flowers. This bittersweet window on the past is remarkable - a tangible reminder of the love surrounding us on our wedding day.

I recently learned that #gratitude is consider a cliché on Instagram. (Of course it is! ha ha It's probably the hashtag I use the most often.) Cliché or not, when I think back to our wedding day, and every day of our marriage since, my most overwhelming feeling is one of gratitude.