Day 9: The Meaning of Life (1/14/22)

 We rose in the morning to an even warmer day than yesterday. The dogs sought out the cooler floor to get comfortable.

Before the sun got too hot, I jogged the trail to the pavilion and back, did my stretching, and took a shower. Phil did an hour’s worth of weights and pushups—he inspires me. Then after breakfast the day stretched out before us, now perhaps too hot for a hike or vigorous bike ride. So we talked.

I don’t know how the conversation started, but it somehow moved into our feelings about this extended camping trip. And that moved into the question of what we’re doing with our lives. Are we being productive? A vacation—of a week or two, or even a month—doesn’t need to be productive; it’s meant to be a rest. But three months…is that different?

Phil says no, I say yes. That’s mostly down to different personalities, perhaps. My husband has spent his whole life doing, and now he is content just to be. I need more. After a week or two of resting, I am ready to dig into something that has meaning beyond my own pleasure. Not sure if that’s old-fashioned Calvinist guilt speaking, but it’s probably also how I was created.

We never did reach a satisfactory conclusion or agreement, but agreed to disagree and to love each other as is.

“As is” is a real estate term that Phil and I became well acquainted with in selling our 1915 Grand Rapids home and my mother’s 1950s-era home. Both needed updating, including electrical, plumbing, and cosmetics. We didn’t have the time or finances to do this, so asked our buyers to accept the houses in their current condition, with all their flaws. 

Marriage is a lot like that—or should be.

At the end of the day, when the sun was sinking and the air cooler, we took our bikes to Catfish Cove, somewhere we’d not been yet.

Marriage is always a work in progress, no matter how long you’ve been married. I consider myself fortunate indeed to be married to this man. As is.