Having just celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary, I look back on the nearly 12 years that Harvey and I have been together, with a whole new perspective. I am reminded daily of the countless joys of marriage.
After 49 years of being single, I found my bashert, and I’m confident that it was well worth the wait.
Harvey and I celebrate all kinds of milestones: the day we met 12 years ago at a picnic at Kits Beach; our first date four months later; the day he moved in with me four months after that; the date he finally proposed, three years hence; and that glorious day in July 2009 that we got married under the chuppah, surrounded by family and friends.
The memories spur me to re-live the goosebump-inducing excitement of each of those milestones.
I’ll never forget how Harvey kept asking me out for months before I finally relented and said yes. I kept telling him it was too soon, and while he didn’t understand my cryptic answer, he patiently waited me out.
In the meantime, he wore down my resistance with Godiva chocolates, romantic late night emails, and sweet, gentlemanly kisses on the hand.
Now, 12 years later we are an old married couple, but on occasion we’re mistaken for newlyweds. We still hold hands, and have a ritual of kissing in front of a certain hallway door each time we pass it. It’s just our thing.
We enjoy that special level of comfort and insight that somehow fuses two people into one.
Harvey can say a single word, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. And vice versa. I can tell you, this comes in mighty handy at social gatherings.
Despite our simpatico relationship, we are two very different individuals, with unique ways of handling situations, and distinctive (sometimes divergent) ways of looking at the world.
Through it all, I continue to learn countless lessons about how to be a loving wife and partner. It certainly didn’t come naturally to me. Respecting our differences has been a challenge some days, but overall, I think we’ve been pretty successful.
Unconditional love is key, and it’s a monumental task. Harvey embraces the concept better than I do.
I know this because I’m no picnic to live with. I have to remind myself a million times a day, that I haven’t been put on this Earth to change him. Or anyone else.
I think I read somewhere that the things we’re critical of in others, are exactly the traits we dislike in ourselves.
Hmmm… I think I have more work to do.
Regardless, my continuing mantras are: live and let live; love the best you know how; and remember to forgive.
Shelley Civkin is a retired communications officer.
