Wednesday, March 4, 2015

The beard

Today I was supposed to go to the kids' school to read a book to G's class for "We Love to Read" week and have N's class work on their festival creation.  But the district is in full "It is going to snow in 6 hours so we need to cancel school now" mode, so it is a snow day.

I'm afraid that if I start complaining about the snow day I will never stop complaining about the snow day, so I'm going to talk about the latest and greatest thing in my world:

D's beard

To be honest, I don't know where the idea even came from for him to grow a beard.  He has never tried before in all the years I've known him.  When he asked what I thought I think I said, "Sure, why not," and maybe suggested it might be sexy.  I think that was all the motivation he needed.

I have been thinking about his beard a lot.  Well, not about his actual beard, the little gray hairs poking out, but about how weird it is that something as simple as a beard can make me see him differently.

This coming summer is our 20-years-of-togetherness anniversary.  Given my penchant for pre-emptive worry and/or reflection, I've been mulling over the significance of this event, and the beard plays into this reflection.

N makes me listen to the radio whenever we are in the car together so I've heard Ed Sheeran's song "Thinking Out Loud."  I both like and hate the lyrics to this song, especially since D and I are sandwiched in that part of life between 23 and 70.

No one at 23 thinks with any seriousness about being with their partner until they're 70.  I'm over half-way there, and I can't think seriously about it.  My MIL turns 67 this month, and I don't know that she thinks seriously about it.

So in his lyrics, I snicker at this line:
And, darling, I will be loving you 'til we're 70

and completely appreciate and "get" these lines:
And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at 23
And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways
Maybe just the touch of a hand
Well, me—I fall in love with you every single day

I don't know that I will be breathing at 70, so I'm going to reserve judgment on who I will be loving and how when that time approaches.

But in all these years with D, I find that sometimes out of the blue, or because of a beard, I am falling in love with him again, feeling all goofy inside and wanting to be with him far more than usual.  Which is nice, completely unexpected, and one of the best things about being with a person for almost half my life.  

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