The Secret

After thirty-two years of marriage, the question of whether or not there's a secret to staying together begs to be asked. There are probably many secrets, one for each couple who makes it into double digits and still manages to treasure the time they spend together.

I'd like to say that the secret is simply "to embrace your differences," but that's not going to happen. It's too much to ask that one will lovingly accept an empty sock drawer while the other is busy writing a novel... especially when the one looking for socks has no interest in reading. It's equally impossible for the one writing to ignore the shock of searching for the leftover half of a roast made lovingly the night before only to find that the entire thing was gulped down for a lunch that could easily have fed three people. So that can't be the secret.

It would be humorous, perhaps, to continue with a litany of those things that don't constitute the secret ingredient. Instead, I'm looking back on our many years of shared laughter, so I'd prefer to concentrate on what does work. 

We listen—even when we disagree. We laugh, even when it's aimed at ourselves. He's learned to share the remote. I've learned to put head phones on, rather than complain about the HAM radio static. He adds water to his coffee rather than expect me to drink the weak stuff. I don't expect him to notice my hair cut, even if he drove me to get it. We're more spontaneous. We like getting lost together, and travel is a big part of our lives. He supports me, even when he doesn't 'get it,' like the writing. 

So none of this is really a secret. It can all be contained in a few words. Learn to enjoy each other. Happy Anniversary to us.