Today is the seventh anniversary of my marriage to Maria, our great adventure together. When we got married, in the big barn of the first Bedlam Farm, we each promised in our vows that if the marriage stopped working for any reason, each of us could walk away, no drama, no anger or guilt.
Because of the Open House, this anniversary sort of got lost in the shuffling. Out of our haze and soreness, it has come to the fore.
Maria and I promised then that once every few years, we would simply renew our promises and vows to one another, and walk away if we decided that was best. We keep forgetting to it, and this morning, I took Maria out for an anniversary pancake breakfast at one of our favorite restaurants in Vermont.
We will spent the rest of the day cleaning up after the Open House, returning furniture, cleaning off the loan.
I was started when a woman came up to me and introduced herself as Kathleen B. Label, she is from Pennsylvania and is visiting in Vermont this week. “I love the Army of Good,” she said. “I want to join.”
She was eager, she said, to support the Army Of Good and she had been meaning to send a donation for the refugees or Mansion residents for some time.
And here, she said, I was with Maria, sitting at a table a few feet from her. How amazing, she wondered, is life? She gave me a check for $50 and introduced me to her husband. The Army of Good, she said, is a powerful and wonderful idea.
How amazing is life.
Maria and I made a fumbling effort at actually discussing whether we should remain today, what, she asked, were the pros and cons?
Well, I said, the sex is wonderful and a gift to me, we are soulmates. We support each other and work very well together, we always have fun and we love our lives together, just about every minute. We are living our lives. Your art is a miracle to me, so is your great love and great heart and generosity of spirit.
Well, she said, digging into her waffles (she eats like an Army platoon), those are not cons, I think.
Oh, sorry, I said. Well, you are strong willed and intense and edgy sometimes, but I especially love you for the emotion you show and for your honesty and creativity. You cry as easily as many people talk, and it is all pure and honest. I love you for your loyalty to your friends, and for the great compassion you show to the world. You have a great heart I said.
Hmmm, she said, this isn’t working out, I don’t think.
Well, what about you, I asked? Do you want to stay together with me?
She laughed. Almost all of the time, she said. Let’s get back to the farm, I have to clear out the studio from the Open House and set it up so I can work.
We agreed to postpone the discussion and rent a hotel or motel room on Wednesday night to officially celebrate our anniversary. We have an idea for a funky old motel on a Vermont lake, not far from where we take the sheep’s wool to be made into yarn. I need to call Cassandra to see if she can watch the animals.
It seems we are staying together, at least for another seven years. I feel good about that. I am the luckiest of people. I have made an awful lot of bad decisions in my long life, but this one was a good one, and it often overshadows the other kind.