Friday, December 19, 2008

The Look

My niece is getting married in a couple of weeks.

I saw the happy couple last weekend and to say that they're a little nervous, well... 

It's an unfair thing we do to young couples, really, expecting them to know for sure that they're doing the right thing, that they've chosen the right person, forcing them to look into the future and contemplate THE ENTIRE REST OF THEIR LIVES.

It's downright mean.

I can remember the time leading up to my own wedding and the grown-up advice to BE SURE, to THINK ABOUT IT, blah blah blah.  Never in the years since, have I spent anywhere near as much time contemplating my life as a whole as I had to back then. 

And what's the point?  You just can't predict the kinds of things that have happened.

No, I prefer to look at my life the way I live it - in moments.  And one of my favourite (and recurring) moments is when Alan gives me The Look, the one I call the "I Married a Madwoman" look.  I'm sure you know the one I mean - equal parts confusion and sheer, blind terror, mixed in with a hefty dollop of disapproval.

The first time I encountered it, we weren't even married yet.

We were in church, and someone was reading the prayers.  Our community was made up of mostly university students and it was the time of year when there were a lot of visitors to the campus.  So the prayer was: "We welcome any newcomers and hope that they will feel themselves at home..."

I snorted self-righteously, whispered to Alan, "Well, I should think so!" and burst out laughing.  Quietly, of course.  And since stifling laughter only makes it stronger, the entire pew shook.

Alan didn't hear what I'd said and found nothing remarkable (or dirty) in the prayer.  He just gave me The Look.  Which I also found hysterically funny.  I'm cracking myself up, just remembering.

I have given and received that look so many times through the years and, while sometimes it just pisses me off, most of the time, I still find it funny.

Maybe because it's the look that can only come about by thinking that your beloved has just lost their mind and this is the way it's going to be FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

Live for today, kids.  That's all we ever have.

 

2 comments:

Jamie said...

Oh yes. I know The Look. My husband also likes to use the "eject button." He threatens to push "it" and eject me from his space. It's turned into a "thing" where I'll squeal and fight for my life to stay next to him - promising to be good. Ah, marriage. Good times.

Barb McMahon said...

Good times, indeed...