So I’m at my parents’ house because we’re leaving for my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration shindig in the morning. 9am flight. We’ll leave the house at 6:30, I imagine. but, my body is still used to leaving at 6:30 from working the 7:30 to 4:30 shift, so I should be good. The old lady is back.
However, I’d like to put out a big eff you to whoever decided it was necessary to curb my toiletries bag to 1 quart-sized ziplock. I appreciate it.
Second, I was talking to my Dad tonight and I haven’t been back to Indiana (where the festivites are held this weekend) since Thanksgiving of 1998. I was a freshman in high school. I haven’t grown “up” since then, but I certainly think there’s a huge difference between 14 and 23, and some of these people, I imagine, will get to re-meet me. I certainly don’t remember them, either. What I can’t decide though, is wherther it’ll be a good experience, or a bad one. I’m hoping regardless, it’s at least funny. I like funny. I’ve built entire relationships on funny.
We’re catching a flight back late-afternoon (I assume) and then I’m headed back to work again on Monday.
But, the whole 50 years of marriage thing is a big deal. Of course I’d love to make it to 50 years. Hell, I’d like to make it to 25, I think that’s a feat itself. It’s so funny, my feelings on marriage have waivered ever so much in just the last couple of years. Of course I want to get married. Even the bitchy, hardened, dregs of my feminist soul cannot resist the temptation of the idea of a long, happy marriage. My parents are pretty happy. Not without a lot of work, sure. They’re definitely put in the extra hours, but they also (at least from the outside) seem to be happier now than they ever have been, which makes me happy, too. And, my grandparents are extremely happy, too. I think somehow they’ve managed to still obtain equality throughout their marriage. Plus, they went on a lot of really sweet trips together. Hooray to bonding in other countries.
The thought of divorce kind of scares me, to be honest. I mean, if I had to, I could certainly do it, it’s not a question of that, but I guess, the process itself. If I found someone and then married them, my thoughts going in wouldn’t be, “Oh, well if this doesn’t work out, I can always try again.” Somehow that seems tainted to me, like the second (third, fourth, fifth) time around wouldn’t be the same. And of course, of course, there are exceptions to every situation. I know this.
Regardless, it just revitalizes the idea that, yes, I do want to get married, and I hope I’m lucky enough to do it just the once, for the right reasons, to the right person, and end up being as happy as my parents, and luckier still, my grandparents.
Lastly, there seems to be a lot of wedding talk around me lately, too. Maybe it’s all just coincidence, but, I’d be lying if I said I don’t think about what my own wedding would be like. But, until then, I’m perfectly content with my hardened, feminist thought processes for now.