Fire and Rain
Written by Kelly on January 19th, 2010We stand in the kitchen and speak words like hunger. My husband makes rice and tofu. I lift the simmering lid to taste. An argument bubbles to the surface that is and is not about how much garlic the recipe requires. It is the same argument we have been having for the past 10 years. It is an argument about expectations.
When David and I were first dating, we once walked home from town in a rainstorm. We took off our shoes and splashed in muddy puddles. We held hands impervious to the damp and the cold. We plotted our future. David was going to change the world. I was going to support him.
I was going to do such amazing things./I was going to simply stand quiet beside you? Both of us are incredulous.
Recently, we bought a house. A home is something we always dreamed we would make together. I am determined to be the one to paint the cabinets in our kitchen. I remind David about how I had to spend an entire day re-sanding the drips he left when he primed. I tell him that I do not trust that he can make the kitchen look the way I envisioned. I tell David that I do not want him to help me paint. He simply shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head, and moves to stand on the periphery. On the last cabinet, I make a huge mistake. I slap my paintbrush down. I am frustrated. David makes a joke about my perfectionism. He makes a joke that is really a gentle observation about us both. This is the shift. We are aware of what is happening. We hug each other in the kitchen. We lean our bodies against the wrecked cabinet. I am struck by the courage it takes for two people to love each other.
When my husband and I jumped those muddy puddles, we were different people. We were just kids. David was confident. I was diminutive. David had dreams. I was content to follow. We have evolved outside of those roles in the 14 years that we have been together. Some of our expectations, of what our life together would be, have not caught up to the adult versions of what we are. I believe the adult version of us has the potential to be better.
Let’s go back to the idea of rain. Gently. Gently. Everything is always falling.
We pull on raincoats and boots. We ignore the umbrellas. We dive in and out of raindrops as we race towards the car. My family drives across town in a storm to find the perfect pencil. David wants to draw pictures. He is at the wheel. I sit comfortably next to him. I am content in the passenger seat with a novel in my hand. There is laughter, and the sweet buzz my children naturally make. My son wants to know what colors combine to make his favorite. He wants to hold orange like a tiny fire in his hand. I tell him red and yellow. I make a mental note to buy him a book about Prometheus. My daughter stares out of her window, grateful. I lean my body towards her to listen. She whispers and I can only nod my head overwhelmed. She says, Thank you, rain, for falling.
19
AM
‘I am struck by the courage it takes for two people to love each other.’ Wish I’d written that. Beautiful.
19
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absolutely beautiful in its honesty. i could feel the rain.
thank you.
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Why does the truth look better after you write it? I feel like I see the world sometimes in black and white. You help me see the beautiful colors in it. If everything happened just the way we thought it would we might be disappointed for different reasons? We would’ve conquered the world a hundred times over instead of it conquering us. But I guess we have conquered it, even if the road that we have traveled wasn’t the one we expected to take. Whatever road we took, or are on, I’m just glad to be traveling on it with you. Love you.
19
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Love this. “everything is always falling.” and this.
“Thank you rain for falling.”
awesome
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Beautiful Kelly.
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“Gently. Gently. Everything is always falling.”
This is the most important thing I’ve read in a very long time. I need to tattoo it to my forearm, lest I forget.
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Kelly everytime I come here I leave a better person.
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Love was like a hunger when I first new Karen. Now that hunger is like junk food. Knowing that whatever you try and imbibe, you feel hungry afterwards, unsatisfied. Both of us feel us, but finding proper nutrition for the heart isn’t a class you take. It’s a dream that comes to me in the shadowed dusk under the watching hands of pine needles at night.
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Beautiful.
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I think I actually winced in recognition at your cabinet painting stubbornness. Control, perfectionism, fear of delegating in case it all falls to pieces that you of course will have to pick up. It’s lovely to hear you have someone that can gently observe and take the stamp out of your boot.
Your writing is beautiful, I’ve been reading for a few posts and am glad I found your site.
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“I am struck by the courage it takes for two people to love each other.”
YES.
Thank you, rain, for falling.
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Mmm. This was delicious.
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“I am struck by the courage it takes for two people to love each other.”
It’s one of the hardest things we can do I think, the only harder thing being, loving ourselves.
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delurking to bow down to these words.
tender power here.
beautiful
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I’m ashamed to even use the same language. Wow. Gorgeous.
I don’t think I should be allowed to use English again until I get this good. D’accord?
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this is so, so beautiful, kelly. lately, i’ve been thinking a lot about the way marriages change and evolve. i’m very interested in the relationship between time and love. there is something so poignant and important and challenging about being able to follow something through for the long-term.
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Oh, I see myself in your words. The perfectionism. The drive to do it yourself so it’s your way only to figure out your way may not be right either then you’re left to hold the burden yourself.
I think my marriage fell apart in part because I’m not willing to let anything go. I have to do it myself and that is where my OCD lies.
Very beautiful writing. I hope my children are as free as yours when they grow up.
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This is so beautiful.
Yes. The courage.
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Your David is such a lucky man. You both seem to have chosen wisely.
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In some ways what you describe sounds like my greatest fear while, somehow, at the same time, my wildest fantasy.
I always thank the rain for falling but I rarely have the courage to love.
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This is beautiful. I can feel and see and hear that rain and everything in between.
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This weblog is being featured on Five Star Friday – http://www.fivestarfriday.com/2010/01/five-star-fridays-edition-88.html
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I have tears from reading this, though they are not falling. I’m another one to have gasped at “I am struck by the courage it takes for two people to love each other.” Maybe some of the tears are for the people who choose not to find the courage. Mostly the tears are part of your rain, your beauty. Thank you.
25
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Wonderful post. Love does take a lot of courage, more than most things.
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Your words are beautiful.I am reading but not commenting. My comments always feel clumsy here x