Marriage is not my strong suit. Friendship, motherhood, dancing around, working hard, reading voraciously, finding joy in small things? These are some of the things at which I excel. Marriage? Not so much.
I read entries like this, or this, or even this, and there is a part of me that truly feels like I’m standing outside a restaurant window watching a couple sharing a candlelit dinner. I’m outside in the incomprehensible alien universe. They are on the inside. And they just understand.
I can see us, B and I, faltering under the weight of all of our responsibilities. I can watch us trying to catch up with the lost dove of romance. I can see him waiting for me to adore and cherish. And yet I fail. I watch myself fail.
And I wonder why I can’t love him the way he deserves? I cannot even begin to understand how others make these things work. Or, put another way, I’m a student in the slow class of love.