A anticipation 2

Writing together?  It's not clear how that could happen. I type as we speak? Recording our conversation and transcribing it?  Well, over the empty plates of our turkey and turnip supper, we took a look at our many years together and the various richnesses of our relationship and the way  they have changed, or not, over time

From the canceled chamber music concert that only we two showed up for in our first days as transfer students at Brandeis, music in so many forms: the concerts we've attended, the instruments we've tried to learn, the hymns and spiritual songs we've belted out, the camp songs we've sung in the car, the scores we've tried to follow... Never 'that's our song' but music itself, classical rather than popular. This is still a wide open space in the midst of who we are.

Those memories led us, somehow, to the topic of  the very different ways the past is/has been present in our lives. Certainly, it's been a lesson I've repeatedly grasped and lost: what's gone is not gone, but has influence still, at least in terms of our reactions and responses. It took me by surprise, and still does. Though I can empathize with feelings of, say, depression or nostalgia, my understanding of the past's power is intellectual, not intuitive. She knows this about me, as I know the same is true about her appreciation of certain compelling influences in my life.

Styles. Perhaps our styles have become more idiosyncratic as time has passed. I arrange things one way and, coming back, see than an Other has re-conceived the space and made it something else. There's an agency in my life which is sometimes in synch with mine, but sometimes not. I think when we were younger we accommodated more than we do today. We can afford to now, especially since our children are out of the house. Yet, each always finds something to share that the other would not have discovered or considered alone. These little enticements are like a kind of courtship.

When we argue, it's the eyes that tell. In the beginning, I make direct, blazing contact; in reconciliation, my gaze is more sidelong; she is the reverse. The You is the one who can, and might, in any contretemps, say the word too much, make a threat too far. And yet, for all these years, it's your opinion, your support, yours, that I seek and value. When for too long we're absorbed in our separate projects, we feel something wilting and deliberately and with relief  take time to 'you' each other again.

Looking ahead to looming retirement as well as inevitable disability, our anticipations are mixtures of excitement and dread. We're outstripping the markers of adulthood: marriage, children, house, college, etc. We're in uncharted territory, but don't expect to come across El Dorado. Yet when we consider us as a couple, we each have ideas to offer for bridging gaps and enhancing intimacy, and these are ingenuous, if not always fully implemented.

How, after years of living in each other's presence, can we remain curious about each other? Yet, out of the depths do come surprises that require previous assessments to be revisited. For instance, just who is that person making those uninhibited selfie videos for our grandson? We're both intrigued.

We have disagreements about basic facts of situations, not to mention how to interpret them. Our priorities only overlap so much. But we've seen each other pursue what each considers right and urgent in ways that are inspiring as examples: the writing, for instance, each of us has doggedly done for years.

In my AA 1 post, I set out a straightforward plan, and your idea was a left field one: 'Let's go away for a few days; I know a place.' I hadn't thought of that, but, of course, why not? Hope there's reception for posting this blog, but whatever, let's go.