15 years of married...THIS?

Wedding invitation by the bride's mother, Jennifer Yane, June 2001.

Wedding invitation by the bride's mother, Jennifer Yane, June 2001.

This week is our 15 year wedding anniversary.

15 years of wedded...THIS? I keep asking myself. 

All of the feelings, the fullness, the emptiness, the longing, the frustration, the love, the joy, the despair. Than animal-ness of us. The mixed species-ness of us. The going different directions at the same time of us.

I feel like, have always felt like, my husband has my body. The weight of it, the sex of it, the hunger and need and flesh of it. But my mind is another story, run free, run wild, run into the ground and sea.

"I can't believe we made it 15 years," he told me this morning. "I don't even like people."

"No kidding," I didn't say. In all fairness I lean on him a in a million invisible ways every day. I thought marriage would be more of a linear trajectory but instead it's an arena, a container filled with impossible things. 

A few years ago, every time I heard the word marriage I felt like I was bound and gagged in saran wrap. I felt thunderstruck by the idea that if things went well, I would never have another first kiss again. Now I feel like marriage is an anchor that keeps me tethered to this earth. 

"Have I turned fat and ugly?" I asked my husband this morning.

"Are you stupid?" he asked back. His was a fair question. For centuries, he's adored even the ugliest parts of me. 

"Just wondering," I said and then I started to cry. 

"Come here," he said and hugged me hard. "You're still the beautiful woman I married."

I am and I'm not. Life transforms us. And whether we want to or not, it's impossible to remain the people we were before we were he imprint of the other.