As You Like It: Thirty-Five Years

Thirty-six years ago, Steve and I sat on a swing set in an Indiana campground, discussing the impossibility of getting married. Actually, I was the one talking impossible — Steve was trying to convince me of the possible. All I saw was us living on opposite sides of the ocean enmeshed in families and jobs that tied us to our homes. We couldn’t just get up and walk away from all of that, could we? Every time I would lay down the definitive argument against our being together, he would find a reason that we could and should. So what could I do but answer, “Yes I do” to his “Will you marry me?” then cross my fingers and hope for the best?

Photo courtesy of freefoto.com

And it has been the best. During the years, I have asked myself endless questions about my life, but never have I questioned us. We’ve been so very lucky. I know it every time I’ve come home from days spent apart, or simply looking across the dinner table every evening. I must have done something awfully good in a former lifetime to have deserved this.

I was always sure that by the time we reached our 35^th year together, life would be easier — a leisurely winding down. Instead it has become more challenging. I’ve been thinking lately that maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. We’ve never been the sort of people who can relax for longer than a day or two. We enjoy moving, working, discovering, and discussing it all at the dinner table at the end of the day. In fact, even Steve’s marriage proposal came at the end of a month-long, cross-country camping road trip.

We hadn’t thought of how we would celebrate this anniversary. There have been years when I thought it would be so wonderfully romantic to renew our vows, but lately that has struck me as very unnecessary. We renew our vows every time we wake up, go to work, walk the dog, have dinner, pay the bills. Our life is our vow. But then our family surprised us with a long weekend at a New Hampshire Inn. Have I mentioned yet how lucky we are?

When I looked up the Notchland Inn on the web, the pictures revealed something straight out of a fairy tale — a place where happily ever after is taken for granted. Lush gardens surrounded the house and spilled out along the paths and grounds. A hammock swung lazily on the front lawn, the White Mountains towered in the background — too good to be true, I thought. Some photographer knowing all the right angles. But I figured that if it was half as good as it looked I’d be thrilled.

Part of the package deal for this getaway was Matt and Lisa. While we were gone, they would house-sit their country home in Canton (who knew that a porch overlooking woods would count as country?) and walk and feed the Snoopster. So we took off feeling relaxed for the first time in a long while. We decided not to plan anything for the following days and simply do whatever we felt like at the moment. This was a new experience for us. Steve was the guy who had planned our Hawaii vacation down to the minute, including a bike ride up some mountain to watch a God forsaken sunrise on the morning that we landed.

It was also strange knowing that we could depend on Madame Gipps (otherwise known as our GPS system) to get us there. No maps, no AAA Triptix — it was all freeing and a bit frightening.

When we hit the switchback road in Franconia Notch, we knew we had finally returned to the mountains. And when we saw our first sign announcing the National Forest, we knew we were close. Then, suddenly, after a quick turn, there it was: a Victorian granite mansion resting at the foot of the mountains. And yes, there were the gardens and the hammock and the gazebo — everything that had appeared in the pictures, only lovelier. “This is going to be just fine,” I whispered to myself.

But it was when we were greeted by the two resident Bernese mountain dogs that we knew the next few days would be everything that the website had promised. Crawford and Felanie, two huge, furry bears with eyes you could drown in, outdid even the inn’s owners, Ed and Les, in hospitality. I would look for them when I woke up in the morning and search for them in the evening to wish them goodnight. I almost snuck them in the car on the way home, but Ed objected.

And so we had the most atypical weekend of our 35 years together. Unplanned, relaxed, pampered, and alone. We ate breakfast accompanied by the constant parade of hummingbirds that flew to the feeders hung outside the dining room windows, celebrated with champagne and strawberries in the gazebo, licked our fingers at dinner and sighed at the breezes that blew through our magnificent bedroom windows. And there were mountains in those windows — the White Mountains that were the backdrop for our anniversary weekend. But best of all there was quiet talk about our lives — where we had been, what we had done, and all the years that we had yet in front of us — all our happily ever afters to come.

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Posted by Joan Florek Schottenfeld on Aug 10 2011. Filed under As You Like It, Featured Content, Opinion. Both comments and pings are currently closed.