Ten years
I've been trying to write something coherent about the fact that today (Wednesday) is Mary Anne's and my tenth anniversary. But it's been a kind of fragmented week, and the words aren't flowing.
I'm sitting here in a darkened living room, listening to Kavya restlessly sleep. Soon, I suspect she'll wake up, and I'll feed her, and then move her to M's room for the rest of the night, and go to sleep myself.
Been thinking lately about all the travel and long-distanceness that's been involved in M's and my relationship; she started out 45 minutes' drive from my place, then moved to Utah in 1999, and to Chicago in 2002. Airplanes, phone calls, emails; visits to each other's homes, meeting up at conventions and workshops.
Ten years ago today, who would have guessed that after all these flights here's where we'd land? The paths we take are not the ones we'd planned; who knows where wandering hearts will come to rest?
. . . And that was when Kavya woke up enough to eat a little, and then fell back asleep, so I took her to M's room and then everyone woke up and I changed K's diaper and although she was fairly calm about it, by the end she was wide wide awake. So I rocked her and sang to her for another half-hour or so, and she finally went back to sleep, and now I'd better go sleep too. So I'm not gonna finish the other ten lines.
But I'll close by saying: Happy anniversary, Mary Anne! I love you.
