committed

many years ago, I read an anthology of stories written by men about marriage. there was one in particular that stayed with me. I have turned it over in my mind, and brought it up in conversation many times since. finally I've been able to find this out-of-print book and reread this story that meant so much to me.

so, here's a few things that immediately come to mind:

• I added details that didn't exist at all, using a net as the metaphor of a marriage growing with the couple as time progresses. the author never said net, he said vessel.
• I remembered (correctly) the author stating he used his parents marriage as a template and it was the first time I thought about our own lack of templates, and how maybe the lack of role models may have helped our marriage since we had fewer unspoken, and unrecognized, expectations
•  I remember, at the time of reading, recognizing the truth of your spouse's family becoming as important and loved as your nuclear family. it's a gift of marriage that no one really speaks about, or maybe I thought it was simply lip service: stay married long enough and the blood boundary dissolves entirely. it's a message that I heard clearly when, at a friend's mother's funeral, I overheard my friend's husband tell another friend that marrying into this family was the best thing that ever happened to him.
• my takeaway, that a marriage continues to grow to fit in children and career and conversations, and even the deaths of loved ones was still the main message of the story but perhaps I saw the death component as something that 'proved' both the idea of in-laws becoming your real family and the way a marriage grows bigger to fit whatever comes at it. this time, I read it with the sadness of inevitably that this vessel will fill with this sombre weight; death comes for us all.
• I remembered that when I first read the story, it was the first time it occurred to me that my worries and fears about my loved ones would only increase as I aged, and my loved ones aged, and more were born into the world.  it was the exact thought that went through my head after rob came home to tell me someone had died and, in the moments between confirmation that it wasn't my mother but before the person's name was revealed, I saw a crowd of people in my mind - all precious and loved and suddenly vulnerable. and I realized, both recognizing and remembering this story, that a dozen new people had been added to my loved ones list.  i had no way to guarantee their safety, and the depth of my worry would continue to widen.

 I loved the story then. and I still think it's an honest piece of writing with much value in rereading. It's short enough and I'm tempted to write the whole thing out in this blog, but I'm certain that would be breaking copyright law. the author is Colin Harrison and the piece is called Incision.