And so you and I, We watch our years go by
We watch our sweet dreams fly, Far away but maybe someday…
I don’t know when, but we will dream again
And we’ll be happy then Till our time just drifts away (Harry Chapin, Dreams Go By)
It’s a good thing humans celebrate their milestones: birthdays, holidays, anniversaries. Otherwise so much time would slip away unnoticed in the day-to-day turmoil and details.
The Cabana Boy and I marked one of those milestones this week: nine years of marriage. What different people we are now than we were then. He was barely out of the National Guard, a father of three under the age of 5; I was an established author and lawyer, with four daughters under my belt, one married with children, one in the Navy, one in college and only an 11 year old still at home. Now he’s a tech school instructor in computer forensics, and I’ve adopted his children, who are 9, 10 and 13. We’ve raised them together through their autism and ADD diagnoses and treatment, and they’ve all survived so far.
To celebrate, we returned to the scene of the crime– the Meadville Community Theatre stage. In 2000, I was playing Ouiser in Steel Magnolias. The set was beautiful, the interior a softly decorated southern beauty shop, with flowers and bowls of fruit and giggly ladies making themselves pretty, while the exterior was a traditional white picket fence and other evidence southern charm. A good place to start, wouldn’t you say?
Last night, we waited breathlessly for the new show, a musical our little theatre troupe has been waiting to perform for years–Chicago. The set was beautiful again–but a stark contrast. The skyline was Chicago of the 1920s and the setting the Cook County jail where women were awaiting trials for the murder of their husbands. Is that a metaphor for where the past nine years have gotten us?
Let’s just say it’s a good thing neither of us are gum-poppers. 🙂