The Sweet Spot
25 years ago, in 1997, this day was a Friday. It was unseasonably warm. We got married in January because my parents asked us not to get married in December….it’s already too chaotic in December. January 3rd seemed much less 😉. I was just shy of 25. Kevin was already 25. We didn’t think we were, but we were babies.
During our pre-marital counseling, we took the Myers-Briggs personality test and when our results came back, Dr. Maliska sat us down in his office and said, “I’m not telling you not to get married, but I’ve never seen two people less compatible.” We thought it was funny.
So, surrounded by our family and friends, at 6 pm, on Friday, January 3rd, 1997, we said, “I do”. My dress was beautiful. I carried calla lilies. The flower girls, (we had 2), were adorable. We had a brass ensemble, antique cars, candlelight, hor devours, and dinner at a beautiful restaurant. My parents went all out, and it was perfect. On our way to the hotel near the airport that night, (as I recall, it was almost midnight), we hit the Burger King drive-thru. I’m not sure either of us ate much at our reception and we were both thirsty, for whatever reason.
The next morning, we flew first class to The Bahamas. Four days of sunshine, the ocean, a lot of food, parasailing, and braids in my hair later, we headed home to our tiny one-bedroom apartment in Mount Penn, PA. It was tiny, but we loved it. We filled it with hand-me-down furniture from family and friends. We bought a table and four chairs that we used for many years. (It was a blonde very light wood that I would never choose today, but back then, I loved it.) It came with a leaf; so, we could squeeze eight people around it if we really wanted to. We still used it when our kids were little and eventually sold it at a yard sale. A grandfather bought it for his granddaughter who was just starting out. I was happy about that.
One of my first married memories is of standing in our tiny living room, behind the ironing board, probably ironing clothes I planned to wear to work the next day. Kevin was standing immediately on the other side of the ironing board talking to me. Of the whole 300 square feet of our apartment, we were both in one square foot of it. He was fine and, I felt trapped. I don’t remember what he was talking to me about, but I do remember pointing out to him that we had 299 unused square feet of space and if we were to get our money’s worth of our rent that month, we should spread out.
I had married a man who needed no personal space. I recall trying to invade his space — on purpose — trying to find the line. At what point is he going to need his own minute, his own space, his own oxygen? After 25 years, I still have not found that line. He doesn’t have one. (He did mention once, I think, a couple of years ago, that he could use more space in our shared closet.) I recall some time in our first year of marriage, telling him that I wanted to go to the grocery store alone. I didn’t want him to come with me. I wanted to spend an hour pondering the grocery shelves by myself. He thought he had done something wrong.
For the next 25 years, we would continue to approach life in two very opposite ways. Four kids, 3 dogs, 1 cat, 3 apartments, 4 houses, countless jobs, losses, wins, heartaches and happiness. We have really been through it. Not unlike most people, we have made some regrettable decisions and we have suffered the consequences but too, we have experienced injustices and heartaches that were not in our control and hurt just the same. We have had 25 years full of really great and some really crappy days and we have dealt with our ups and downs in almost opposite ways. In years 5, 10, 15, and even 20, our oppositeness (I made it up), was frustrating most of the time. In year 25, we’ve finally settled into it.
It has taken 25 years to mellow ourselves….to choose the hills worth dying on. We have both discovered that so far, there aren’t any. Neither of us is ready to give up. (There have been days in 25 years that I have pulled the suitcase out of the closet and threw it on the bed, but I never actually packed it.) We compromise, a lot. We meet in the middle, a lot. We resolve to let it go, a lot. After all, that’s what “I do” means.
We can anticipate what the other is going to do or think or say and with that anticipation comes comfort. I know, when we’re pulling out of our driveway, he’s going to need to, almost always, go back inside because he forgot his wallet or his glasses. I know that though he’s going to look at the entire menu, he’s really only going to order Chicken Alfredo or a burger. I know that he’ll be home about 30–45 minutes after he plans to be. He knows that I’m going to pour an entire glass of iced tea and only drink half of it. He knows I order dessert even when I’m full. He knows I sleep in sweats, sweatshirt and socks with 3 blankets and I know he sleeps in only shorts under only a sheet.
I recently had a sweet young lady, married two years, marvel at our 25 years. She asked me how we did it. She’s at the beginning of her marriage and struggles to keep her identity. They fight a lot. They don’t see eye to eye very often. There is no magic formula, I told her. You really do just have to fight through it. Let go of what you can. Learn as you go. Pray a lot. Bite your fingernails off sometimes. Have the long conversations when you must. Hang on, even if by a thread. Take long hot showers because maybe that’s when you get to be alone. You will come to 25 one day at a time.
Twenty-five years later, we have sweet kids who are changing the world around them. Kevin has an excellent job that he loves. We’re building a house in Auburn, IN that we’re excited about. We’re part of a sweet group of people at church. We laugh a lot. Do we have regrets? Sure. Some. But not about each other. Not about committing to a lifetime. Can we do better for each other? Always. Will we get there? Maybe. I’d like to live near palm trees and Kevin would like to see more money in our savings account. Some things will never change, but 25…25 might just be the sweet spot.
