The Life of Bon: September 2020

Friday, September 04, 2020

Sugar cookie

 Sometimes I feel so nostalgic for my marriage.  A marriage that was unhealthy and trying and often lonely.  But still.  I miss it sometimes.  

The pang of missing comes unexpectedly and at inopportune times.  I'm getting ready for a date.  Suddenly I remember.  Something lovely about our marriage.  I don't want to go on the date anymore. 

Anyone who has gotten divorced would tell you that the marriage was hard.  That there was suffering involved.  That there was pain.  But anyone who stayed in a marriage for seven years will also tell you that there was joy.  Connection.  Inside jokes.  Glances that communicate volumes.  I don't suspect people stay married if there isn't also immense love.  And even when the reasons to leave outweigh the reasons to stay, the reasons to stay are still there.  The reasons to stay are still there.

Everything we shared.  Where does all that sharing go?  Everything we loved together.  Where does that love go?  The experiences, the memories- only he understands.  Only he remembers.

Today I was working on my jewelry business.  Making projections for how much earring inventory I will need to see the business through 2020.  It was not especially fascinating work, but it required all my focus.  One hundred percent of my brain power.  Or so I thought.  I guess it required 99% of my brain power because out of nowhere I remembered.

One Friday afternoon he picked me up from my teaching gig at the high school.  The kids were in the backseat.  We were going to his parents' home for the weekend- a place that was always a total oasis for him.  I ran out to the car and got in the front seat.  Work is done for the week hallelujah lets gooooooooo!  Grabbed the hand of my husband.   Looked back at my two babies making noises in the back.  These were my people.  My family.  My ride or die.  He was smiling a sneaky smile.  June was also excited.  They were up to something.

"We got you a surprise!" finally he burst.  He pulled out from the middle console a huge, fluffy cookie.  My favorite sugar cookie from my favorite out of the way cookie place.  And a pint of milk.  He had left early to go get the cookie for me, he knew how much I loved it, knew how delighted I would be to receive a surprise treat after a long day of work.

"You don't have to share it with us" he said, "It's all for you."  He was so proud of the way he had surprised me with this treat.  I felt loved, adored, cherished.  Of course I shared the cookie.  Breaking off and feeding sugary frosting pieces to my husband and my children.  A unit.  A family.  The four of us.

Where did this memory go the past two years?  I haven't thought of it since.  It's been hiding in my brain waiting to reemerge.  No one else knows of this experience.  Only he would remember.  

Who do I share it with now?  

And when the marriage ends where does that sharing-a-sugar-cookie-in-the-car love go?