I’m breaking away from poetry today, with the next installment of The Fox scheduled to be published tomorrow.
Time is relative. What feels like forever one day, is but a fleeting moment the next. When you stand in front of the person you love, the person you’ve (sub) consciously opted to spend forever with, hand in hand making that profound, and legal declaration of unity, time stops.
Two simple words to confirm this bond, the bond that will be broken by death alone. The bond that, regardless of wealth or health, is for forever. These two words stop time.
We don’t know what the future brings; we can guess, draw rational conclusions based on observable patterns of behaviour in us or others, but we can’t know. But we can feel; and this feeling of conviction, that excitement to make this promise of unity, makes time start.
When you stood hand in hand, with your nearest and dearest, nobody knew how long forever would be. There were those that doubted (and no doubt they still do!), but more important were those that were on the sideline, cheering you on.
Nobody knew that life would thrust upon you a multitude of crises and triumphs alike. Nobody could have predicted that the terms of your marriage contract would be pushed to the absolute limit, that wealth and health were vows more pertinent than we could have conceived.
Nobody could imagine the emotional strength and resilience you’ve demonstrated, nor the seemingly infinite amount of time invested in you and us. Nobody could ever have imagined that there’d be times when you each, in isolation, wept and wished it would be over. Neither could they have envisaged that, in unison, there’d be rapturous glee and contentment.
Who is anyone to even assume the sacrifices that you each, individually or together, have had to make over the years.
And over those years, time simultaneously moved at an alarming velocity and remained static.
We don’t know what forever is, nor could we ever predict. But, twenty five years is certainly a good start.
On Tuesday, my parents celebrate twenty five years of marriage. Here’s to twenty five more.