HOLY SMOKES there are a lot of you today!
I have preempted the post that I was going to put up in favor of saying thanks to Sal of Already Pretty and Winona of Daddy Likey for the link lovin’. After a long and emotionally draining weekend, it was a nice surprise.
This past weekend I went home to see my family. We were all gathering for my grandmother’s funeral, and for my niece’s second birthday party, and my brother and his wife came over from Japan, and my sister came over from Pittsburgh, and there were cousins cousins COUSINS. Cousins up to the rafters! Cousins in the hallways! Cousins in the closets! It was like there was some secret Cousin Machine somewhere that kept pumping out new relatives that I wasn’t familiar with, and they all wanted to pinch my cheek and hug my boyfriend. I spent most of the time talking to the few family members I knew well and eating cake.
I’ve discovered that at every family gathering there are usually two or three questions that everybody asks you. These questions alter as you get older, and it’s kind of fun to walk into a room full of your mother’s brothers and guess what The Big Topic will be. I assumed I would be asked about finishing school, and what my job at the moment was. I had my answers scripted and set, and I was ready to reel them off without really thinking.
You can understand why I got a little flustered, then, when my Uncle Mike swung me onto his knee and said, “Well, darlin’, when are you and your fella gettin’ hitched.”
Hitched? What? Me? Hitched? I’m not getting hitched. Why would you think I’m getting hitched? I’m not getting hitched. Just because my fella and I have been dating for what only like five and a half years that doesn’t mean we’re getting hitched. Preposterous. Ludicrous.
I sputtered something about life choices and Taylor’s graduate school and Uncle Mike just kept nodding sweetly and saying in his bass Eastern Oregon drawl, “Well, I’m gettin’ old now, sweetheart, and there are things I wanna see!”
My father stepped in at the last minute and told Mike that Taylor and I had, not a plan, but a ‘direction and intentions’. I relayed all of this to Taylor later, who bore it with a half smile and a barely concealed look of terror in his eyes. Later, on the drive home, while I tortured him with my favorite songs, he said,
“You know, I’m almost getting antsy about getting married.”
“Oh?” I said. Taylor and I have an agreement that I am not to gush too much about our ‘eventual wedding’ so that he doesn’t explode. Just talking about gowns usually makes him twitch a bit, and get very quiet and nervous.
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean I…you know. I have days like last week where it’s like I’m twenty-two going on eighty and I don’t want to lose my last days of freedom and bachelor-hood, and then I have days where I just…I just want to be MARRIED.”
“Yeah,” I said. I felt like it was smartest to keep my two cents to myself.
“Not to have a wedding,” Taylor clarified. “I still want to wait until we can afford a nice wedding, even to try to afford the kind you want. I just get antsy to…be married to you.”
“Yeah,” I said again, and we dropped the issue.
That night we put our new flannel sheets on the bed and watched the new episode of our favorite HBO show. I borrowed Taylor’s college sweatshirt because it was cold, and Taylor coaxed the heater to life. We went to sleep early, and this morning when my alarm when off at 7:00, I texted Taylor in the other room and demanded he come back to bed and lay with me, which he did, until 8:00 when I absolutely had to get up.
Marriage, I’m sure, is very nice, but I am quite happy with the way things are.