Thinking about marriage these days, with Obergefell possibly being challenged, and Loving perhaps to follow. Kev and I were partners for a long time before we got legally married, and to be honest, I didn’t experience much difference between ourselves. The world treats us differently, though, both socially and legally. And I admit, it’s useful, having a single word that clearly means ‘someone I hope will be a life partner.’ Convenient for writing poetry, at least.
He’s Been Going to More Conferences Lately,
Which is Good
I said, “I hope I make your life better,” and he said,
“What’s wrong?”
I said “Nothing’s wrong; I was just thinking about
how much better my life is with you in it.
He said, “I don’t think I did much to improve your life today.”
Today, he worried about our son’s teacher
the one he was assigned again by mistake,
the one who hated our son last year (the boy
isn’t so hate-able, you’d think, unless you’re an adult
who has a problem with children asking questions /
challenging your authority…). He worried enough
to push the advisor to fix the mistake, and it was fixed
so that’s one less thing for me to worry about, not
that I was actually worrying about it much; I’m not good
at worrying, so I tend to leave it to him whenever possible.
He helped me haul a giant mandevilla to the store,
which I could have carried myself, but it was easier
with him to help. And moved it back and forth until
I was satisfied with its placement.
He made dinner for the children, even though our daughter
was going out with friends; she stood at the stove, eating
pieces of pasta out of the pot for a while before leaving,
which it turned out to be just as well, because she didn’t like
what she ordered, and that pasta was all she had for dinner.
He made me tea, and fixed my chicken curry (I was bored
with it, so he sautéed some onions with chili powder and
re-cooked the remainder to be spicier and yummier),
and did the dishes afterwards, even though he also needed
to finish his grading and do laundry and pack because
he’s getting on a plane today. I did tell him he could leave
them for me, but he said it was his job, doing the evening
dishes, which is true — I get cranky if I don’t have a clean
sink in the morning. He did leave me some to put away.
Then there was the ceremonial nightly watching of the TV;
Resident Alien was funnier with him watching with me. And
the talking over of the day, and the snuggles, and even the
lovely sex (also funnier and more delicious than I’d have
managed on my own). And he reminded me to call the doctor
for our daughter’s check-up (calling is my job, because I
hate it just a little less than he does, but reminders are his,
because everything falls out of my head these days).
And I will make that call today, and probably a few more,
if I can make myself deal with them, and I’ll drive him
to the airport if I can think of a good errand to combine with it
(a garden store would provide sufficient justification).
I will keep the children fed and alive until he gets back,
and it’s not that much, really, to do for him, but this is,
I suspect, the heart of a good marriage. Trying to make
each others’ lives better, one tiny task at a time, day by day.
Aug 12, 2025
Photo: First dahlia of the season, “Honka Pink.” Slightly bedraggled, but charming. I was a little slow getting dahlias in the ground, but I did manage it, and now labor is rewarded. Also like a good marriage.
