A few years ago we were out shopping for something, somewhere, in some store that has all kinds of needed and unneeded things. A day like any other day and I had no particular mission or pressing need to buy all the things. And then I was caught by a chunky, cable-knit sweater. But it was too much and I talked myself out of it before I even touched it.
I often do that; minimize my needs and wants in lieu of the practical. It isn’t like I didn’t have a sweater to wear. Well, maybe I didn’t come to think of it. Anyway, that sweater was new and soft and I could imagine cold frosty mornings with hot tea and a good book. I could see denim jeans and a walk in the park. I could justify pulling it on over my ratty pajamas in a hurry to get the kids off to school.
And then he came around the rack. “Try it on”, he said.
“No”, I said. “It’s too much.”
He pulled it off the rack and handed it to me, “try it on.”
I did. And I loved it. And he said I should have it. So we did. We bought that sweater.
It’s a little worn and frayed. It needs a button or two. But it’s still cozy on a winter morning and I still pull it on over my pajamas. When I’m sick it’s the only thing warm enough but not too constricting. I can still wear it with my jeans and not look to hobo-ish. (well, that’s what I think).
There are other sweaters. Nicer sweaters. Cheaper sweaters. Sweaters that are vibrant and edgy, sweaters that are warm and fuzzy and cute and sexy.
But they’re not my sweater. And they don’t have the smell or the memories that this sweater has.
I am a wife. Of nearly 22 years. And even though there have been times when I could have walked away from my life, my husband and whatever THIS is that we’re doing, I chose to stay and live. I cried some days. I longed for new and fresh and fun and vibrant and colourful and sexy…..
But I will tell you this- there is NOTHING- not one small little thing, that can compare to knowing that you have someone who has seen the tears, seen the mess, held your hand, kissed your cheek, heard your fears, weathered your rants, put up with your crap, stayed by your side, juggled the responsibilities, made you laugh, took some risks or had your back.
Married for life is not about being the prettiest, sexiest, funnest, cutest, happiest at all times, in all ways, every day, till death do us part.
It’s just like a worn sweater on a cool fall morning: warm, comforting and familiar. Why would I want anything else?