Thirty

Thirty years ago about this time in the afternoon, I had been a married lady for a couple of hours. And as I remember, well into the first of a few bottles of champagne. A deluge of water has passed over the dam and under the bridge since then. Things are quite different than how I was imagining them that day. For one, my taste in champagne has become more refined. I am happy to say I have tasted Dom Perignon and found it most lovely. I'm still a teensy bit surprised to find myself single at this point in my life. For ten years now. That sure as shooting little green apples off Wilhelm Tell's head wasn't considered as a future possibility. Ten years ago I would speak in very clear terms about the failure of my marriage. But I don't anymore. Over time my thinking has moved down the judgment scale to a kinder description. Due to the fact that my marriage ended in divorce, I suppose if you think in black and white it did fail. But among all those shades in between, there were many, many successes. Bearing and raising two wonderful sons. Remodeling a home. Family gatherings held for holidays and birthdays and graduations and weddings. Vacations and weekend trips. And in between those marked events were the everyday meals and waking up together and movie dates on the couch that are ordinary. Ordinary yet form relationship bonds and etch a history on our hearts and minds. In the end we grew apart rather than together. But for twenty years things worked well more often than not. So if you ask me now, I'd call that pretty darn successful.