Circle of Love — Another Midlife Love Story
August 12, 2008
A little over a week ago, I posted on the wedding of Penny and John — a couple who found one another in midlife. At the end of the post I asked if anyone knew of other great midlife love stories. Well, I got an email back from Becky who blogs over at Seasonality with her inspirational story about falling in love all over again - with the same guy”! In her own words, here’s Becky’s circle of love:
Did I ever tell you how I met my husband? When I first got to the University of Texas, I took a job in my dorm’s cafeteria. I had only been there a short time when my roommate caused an embarrassing incident. She was quite the head-turner, with glossy hair falling down past her tuckus. She was also very nearsighted, but too vain to wear glasses. When going through the cafeteria line together, I had to describe the food choices to her, since she was unable to see them.
One Sunday, she looked up at the guy serving us, and said in her deep, sultry voice, “Hey Gordon, that was some date we had last night.” I jabbed her with my elbow, but was ignored. She leaned forward, and dropped her voice even further. “I had a really, really good time!” “Ahhem! Pardon us please,” I said, then shoved her down the line, growling “That wasn’t Gordon you idiot, that was John!” Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw John staring at us, with a cocky grin on his face. “Well, great!”, I thought. “Another one bites the dust.”
The oddest thing happened though. Usually, when working in the kitchen, I cleared trays that came down the conveyer belt. Suddenly I began finding little notes on them, and when I glanced out the tray-feed window, I saw that same cocky grin. The notes were fairly corny (under a bowl of peaches I found one that read “What a peachy girl!”) but I’ve always been rather fond of corn. Top it off with a mischievous grin and twinkling eyes? Well, I was a goner in no time.
Looking back on our years together, I see a certain seasonality to the stages of a marriage. The first stage was the idyllic one - he’s wonderful, I’m wonderful, and everyone’s deliriously happy. Some call it the honeymoon stage, and for us, it truly was. John took a job overseas at the end of my junior year. Neither of us was any good at expressing our feelings, and not a word had been mentioned about marriage, so I feared this move might be the end of us.
As it turned out, we happened to be superb letter writers. We made up for lost time by pouring our hearts into those letters, and soon felt closer than ever. John also discovered that adventures are better shared. We married the minute I graduated, and set off on a three year honeymoon. 
Since ex-pat wives weren’t allowed to take jobs in Indonesia, I spent my days turning our thatched-roof bungalow into a cozy nest, entertained his friends from my improvised kitchen, and waited with bated breath for hubby to come home each evening.
The honeymoon stage ended abruptly upon returning to Houston. Suddenly I worked 60 hour weeks, including every Saturday, expected John to share the housework, and was way too exhausted to entertain. Though the letter writing had ended when we married, our verbalization skills had yet to improve, and since we both avoided confrontation, many issues got swept under the rug.
Stage three began when our first child arrived. If you know someone who thinks a baby might help their marriage, just slap them up side the head and yell “Snap out of it!” Nothing is less likely to make things easier. Although our relationship was still strong, I knew my life was about to change dramatically, and was prepared for that. I assumed John’s life would change equally. Silly me.
I think John assumed that we would go back to the honeymoon phase, now that I was no longer “working”. Silly John! His rude awakening came the first time Alexis had colic. Instead of being met by a scantily clad wife with welcoming drink in hand, he was greeted by a frazzled wife, still in her robe, who thrust the baby into his arms saying “Here - your turn!”
Stage four began when hubby awoke to discover a monstrous burden crushing him with its weight. He found himself thinking “These kids are expensive, and I’m responsible for their future. I must make more money!” As Dad became caught up in his career, Mom became caught up in raising children, and we as a couple became less caught up in one another.
One day, I realized that we rarely talked of anything other than the kids. When I mentioned this to John, he replied “Well, what would we talk about? You never even read a newspaper.” Not a smart thing to say to someone who’s trying to cook, with a baby in one arm and a toddler on her ankle, while hubby sits reading his paper. It’s probably the closest I ever came to bopping him with my frying pan, and when I began to feel rather boring and unattractive.
As John began spending more time overseas, I developed navy-wife-syndrome. I was expected to hold down the fort while he was away, make rules and handle emergencies, but when home, he often tossed my rules out the window. Thankfully, we stumbled upon a gifted counselor, who gradually reeled us back in towards one another. I often wondered how anyone survived stage four without one. I guess quite a few don’t, as many friends bailed out on their marriages the minute they entered stage five (the kids-are-gone-now-what-do-we-do stage). I worried that we might have a relapse ourselves, once the last child left home, and worried again when John suggested I might move to the house where we planned to retire, ahead of him.
Were we strong enough now to withstand that separation? Over dinner last week, I looked up to find John smiling and staring intently at me. “What?”, I asked. “Oh, just thinking about how much you’ve grown and changed over the years,” he said. Suddenly I felt like the most interesting woman in the world!
Whenever John leaves voicemail messages these days, they usually begin with “How’s my Treasure?”, and I’ve spent all week planning what to cook for him. Yesterday his email read “It’s very dreary in Houston, but then, every day is dreary, whenever you’re not here!” Pretty corny, huh? Then it hits me. We’ve come full circle. You might even say we’re taking a second honeymoon!
Thanks to Becky and John for including the readers of Midlife’s A Trip in your circle of love.
Comments
9 Responses to “Circle of Love — Another Midlife Love Story”
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Karen - Midlife Coach
Hi Karen,
Thanks so much for posting my story. I just wanted to clarify, the name of my blog is actually “Seasonality”, which kind of ties in with the theme of this story! I only used hill country living in the blog address, because seasonality was already taken.
Becky–sorry about that. I made the revision. Thanks again for sharing your story:-)
Karen
Terrific story!
It is! I like how Becky uses the perspective that marriage has stages just like life does. It’s a good way to think about it.
Karen
The day that I recognized that “to everything, there is a season”, even marriage, and concentrated on learning to work with it, rather than against it, is the day I set off on the path to living the good life. Now it has filtered out into every part of my life - how I eat and cook, decorate, entertain, garden - and was the concept that launched my blog.
Great story. I see the stages of my marriage in it. I’m working my way to stage 5.
Ray–congratulations on setting the intention that stage 5 is waiting for you. Are you planning a celebration (hint, hint)? I’m glad you stopped by to read Becky and John’s story. Visit again soon, OK?
Karen
That’s what I love about blogging! Before, I would write stories like this, then tuck them away in a drawer, wondering if they had any worth at all. But this one, which started out on my blog, then ended up a couple of other places, immediately started pulling in comments just like Ray’s. That’s when I knew, I had accidentally touched upon something universal, and it’s those comments that keep me writing!
Becky–you’re so right about blogging. It’s strangely liberating when you start to blog. You say what you mean and mean what you say. Once a blogger, always a blogger, I think.
Karen