Memories of Windows Past

[tedwords]

Wednesday morning, I called Josie on the way to work. We're in the midst of taking out a home equity loan to pay for siding on the house, and there are endless details that need to be worked out--things such as appraisers, W-2s, blah blah blah.

After about five minutes, though, she paused for a minute, as if she were waiting for me to say something. And then she said, "Happy anniversary."



And it suddenly dawned on me--it was our 15th anniversary of being married.

To be fair, remembering things like anniversaries are not my strong suit. I can remember the kids birthdays--just barely. But Corb and I went about a month this spring before we turned to each other and said, didn't we forget our anniversary? Which we had, totally.

Women, on the other hand, are not hard-wired that way. They come equipped with a built-in rolodex of names, places, and dates, which provides them with the uncanny ability to not only remember things like important dates, but to actually prepare in advance for the celebration of these dates, through cards, through parties, through streamers and balloons.

Men tend to lack this gene. Yesterday, we celebrated father's day for my dad. My sister Kerrie had gone to the effort of purchasing his gift for the two of us on e-Bay. An autographed photo of Joe DiMaggio and some Red Sox player. Dad loved it.

All I had to do was to come with a card. Did I think to buy a card for my father the week before, when Father's day is actually observed? When Father's day cards would still be available? No, I waited until we were about to drive to my father's, when my selections at the local CVS had shriveled up to generic messages about "celebrate the day! (Whatever day that might be)." I was torn between a card extolling the virtues of beer, and one that celebrated the consumption of buffalo wings, which opened up to play the chicken dance.

I settled on the chicken dance.

But I knew that this was a big deal for Josie. I knew it because the other day, I was hanging around the homestead, and he mentioned that she's been irritable at work, and had really gotten one guy angry with her, to the point where he was considering looking for another job. She went into his office and apologized, saying she was grouchy, because it was the seventh aniversary of her brother's death, and also her fifteenth wedding anniversary.

"Why would our anniversary put you in a grouchy mood?" I asked, naively.

"Oh you know," she said, and her eyes started to tear up. "Another failure."

What I said to her on Wednesday was that I really can't consider our relationship a failure. How can I? Yes, things didn't end as we had planned, back in those days when the world seemed to stretch out before us like a big blue sky. However, unlike most couples in our situation, we still talk, we still interact. We still celebrate Halloweens and Christmases and Thanksgivings together. We're both active with our kids, we still work to improve our house (even if Andrew did have to finish the bedroom that Corb and I started fixing about a year ago). We're still friends, first and foremost, and always will be. There are a few married couples I know who can't even say that.

Yesterday, for Father's day, Corb had to work, so I ended up taking the kids and Josie. It almost felt as though five years had washed away, although of course they hadn't.

About an hour at the beach house, I discovered a photo album, filled with images of my parents' beach house, starting from when they first purchased it, back in 1984, with their two best friends. Of course, there were a number of photos of Josie and me.

A few years ago, I wrote a story about traveling back in time. Reversing all that occurred. If it were possible, now, would I want to slip back into those photos? Emerge, like a wormhole, into an earlier time and place?

The truth is, I can't even say that the answer is tempting. The truth is, I'm happy with who I am, and where I am. Although I do wish that I could remember--and remember to celebrate--anniversaries and milestones for the ones that I love better.

Looking at my mom's photo album, it was nice to see that twenty-three years later, my parents may look a little grayer, but the place that they bought is still standing, they still own it with their two best friends, and they're still celebrating Father's day with lobster, year after year. That hasn't changed.

That's the future that I want for the ones that I love, too.