Marriage, Fruitcake, and Family

We talked about getting married, back before we moved here, and again right afterwards -- twice just to make sure we were on the same page. We have decided against it. On purpose. Both of us have done it before, more than once, and we both have had disappointments, betrayal of trust, heartbreak. Call it what you will. We have decided that we must not be that good at it -- marriage -- either of us. Oddly, because both of us are domestic. We enjoy that sense of belonging, the responsibility that goes with it, and the dedication to making life easier, kinder, calmer. We are both drama-adverse. As he has said so plainly, "I've had enough bickering to last me a lifetime." Ditto.

That's not to say there haven't been bumps. Anytime two people in the second half of their lives begin a relationship, there are bumps, caused mostly by old habits, old lessons learned hard and not given up easily. Almost every misunderstanding we have had has been because of baggage that we carried into this relationship. But even those skirmishes have been minor, talked out and gotten rid of quickly. We are old souls, delighted to have lucked into each other. We've let go of the stuff and made room in our hearts for each other. We keep each other centered. We're aware of each other's likes and dislikes. We've suspended criticism and are open to trying new things. So far it's working.

We've having a big Christmas to-do here later today. His side, plus me and Daddy. He has one living brother, and one who was killed in a car wreck 15 years ago. The living one, his wife and grown children will be here. The one who was killed's widow and her grown children and grandbaby. All will arrive around 11:00. His mother is, of course, the main reason for the gathering, and for gathering here. She had Thanksgiving at her house, and she's 86. It was hard on her, plus we have more room. So there will be 14 of us for lunch. Mexican food. Everyone is bringing a dish. We'll exchange gifts, drawn by number. It will be fun. I like his family. His son and daughter-in-law especially, and his granddaughter. I think they like me, too.

And so yesterday we worked in the kitchen together, getting things ready. He made his chili, I made a pie and a chicken dish. We pitched in together to clean up our messes. He swept. I mopped. He washed dishes. I wiped down the counters. He balked at me scrubbing the bathroom in our bedroom. "Nobody will be coming in here," he said. I get on these cleaning binges and have a tendency to think things have to be perfect. He knows this failing of mine and reminds me, gently, that nobody will care if it's less.

I have been wrestling with sleep. Excited about today, and about seeing my son in five days. It has been an almost effortless Christmas so far. Painless shopping. Easy decorating, a little here and a little there. I've baked some, but without the frenzy of years past. We tried our hand at a fruitcake and it turned out better than good. I'm not a big fan of fruitcake but I like this one. Because it was a joint affair. The decision to make one, the decision on ingredients. Neither of us like dates, so those were out. I like things nutty, he likes them fruity. We doubled up on both, and used a spice cake mix as our base, adding apricot brandy and vanilla, a brandy glaze. It's the best (I unashamedly admit) fruitcake I've ever tasted.

It's Christmas ... or almost. And now that it's here I don't understand why I was dreading it so much. Even the weather is cooperating so we can have a fire glowing in the fireplace this morning when the family arrives. But the sun is supposed to keep shining so the young people can go out exploring after we eat. And they will as they always do when they're here. In the country. Things to look at and places to wander, an opportunity to get away from the grown-ups.

Tonight, when they've all gone, the dog and the cat will lounge near us, happy to be just the four of us again. The television will be on again, the leftover mess will be only half tidied but who cares. Contentment. In our element. Whatever else may come will just be gravy.

Onward ....