On Being Together but Doing Different Things

Me: Looks like you're not working tomorrow night!

She: Right. Cuz I'm working Friday morning.

Me: Tomorrow is our anniversary!

She: It is?

Miles ridden since last post: 5.  (On Christa's beast of a bike. I'm sick of my tires giving me issues.)

Tomorrow is now today.  Happy Anniversary to us!!!  

I remember our anniversary because I can't help it; certain dates just seem to stick in my mind.  Executive functioning is like that.  Christa, however, won't remember because (1) she doesn't care, and (2) ADHD.

To be honest, I don't care either.  As long as we act like we're married the other 364 days of the year, who cares that today's the same date we had a tiny ceremony in front of a judge? To a certain extent, remembering birthdays and anniversaries seems a bit like going to church on Sundays but behaving like a jerk the rest of the week.  If we show each other love every day, then why is forgetting a birthday or anniversary so traumatic for some?  Christa forgetting it's our anniversary is certainly not evidence that she loves me any less. 

Remember, I'm a baseball fan. Thomas Boswell, a longtime sportswriter for The Washington Post, tells a story about once interviewing the Orioles' manager, Earl Weaver, before a game.  The interview ran long, in fact right through the playing of the National Anthem.  As Boswell tells it, he apologized to Earl, to which the skipper replied, “This ain’t a football game. We do this every day.”

The point is, with 162 games to play over the course of 6 months, baseball is less affected by a one day miscue.  Baseball lives in the mundane, the slog of every day.  Just like ordinary life.  Baseball requires quick forgiveness, because you have to be on your game again tomorrow.  You struck out 4 times?  You misplayed a routine fly ball?  No matter.  You better be ready for tomorrow's game.  You forgot an anniversary?  You broke my favorite paint brush?  You were later than you promised?  Too bad. Better forgive quickly and gear up, because we're doing this marriage adventure again tomorrow.  Both baseball and life provide us with the opportunity to perform again soon.  That makes life's errors less egregious.

Christa wrote last night about the two of us "being together but doing different things."  We do that surprisingly often.  More then once we've gone to a local pizzeria, commandeered their "mafia" booth with its table for 6, and shared a pie while Christa spreads out her artwork and I watch whatever game is on television.

Being adept at "being together but doing separate things" is why a crazy trip like bicycling and motorcycling separately for 600 miles is something we find so obviously feasible and altogether important for our marriage.  On those days out on the road, I'll be in the saddle for 8-10 hours every day with no one to talk to but the dog.  Christa will only have to ride for about 2 hours each day.  We'll be apart for most of the entire trip.  But coming together at the end of each day for a campfire meal and sleeping in a tent under a beautiful prairie sky will all be worth it.  I'm certain we'll arrive home at the end of 9 days with a deeper love and more stories to tell.  

Because Moto-cycling is Pawsible!