Rubies

As of yesterday, my parents have been married for 40 years.

Forty years. When I say it, it's like the longest thing I've ever heard. I can read about how dinosaurs roamed the Earth nine-hundred scillion years ago, and psh, whatever. Because nine-hundred scillion or eighty hojillion or whatever the actual dinosaur number is isn't a human number. No one can see that many years. But forty? Forty is a long time.

People thought my parents were too young to get married in the first place, and they definitely seem to young to have been a couple for so long.

My only other direct experience with couples who have been together forever and ever amen was on the honeymoon cruise that Rob's parents gave us as a wedding present. I was combing through the little booklet that all of the passengers receive that details the cruise events and activities. One of the scheduled activities was a get-together for newlywed couples and couples who were celebrating their 50th (or higher) anniversary. We acknowledged that we might be getting into something really lame, but decided to go because, well, why not? And I have a soft spot for old married couples.

Let me tell you, these folks were glad to see us. We were the last couple to arrive, and the only newlywed couple in the group. We sat with five old married couples and drank champagne for an hour. They were amused to hear that we'd corresponded through e-mail before meeting in person. I was astonished to hear that every single one of the men had been a member of the United States military.

My dad was in the Navy when he and my mother were engaged. She wanted him to wear his dress blues to their wedding. He wore a tux with a blue jacket instead. Forty years ago.

After our meet-and-greet with ten sixty- and seventy-somethings, Rob and I walked around the ship. We found live music in one of the many bar areas; a pianist was playing something by Cole Porter. It might even have been "You're the Top," which we danced to at our wedding. I don't remember. We were the only couple on the dance floor for a long time. I tired to imagine us dancing together 50 years later.

"For our fiftieth anniversary, let's take a cruise," I said.

"Sounds fun. And we can pass on our wisdom to some newlyweds."

"They'll be scandalised that we met via e-mail."

"Totally."

For our fiftieth anniversary... It seemed impossible to imagine, but sounded right somehow. And my mom and dad are most of the way there.

I'm proud of my parents and what they've achieved in their marriage. Not the longevity of their relationship, per se, but the work they've put into it to get this far. Because a good, long-lasting relationship means busting your ass. You have to be willing to grow and change. You have to be willing to not get all of what you want, and not get your way, and make peace with disappointment.

Somewhere in all of that ass-busting, there's something very precious. Because a good, long-lasting relationship also means experiencing someone else's life along with your own. Telling stories together, side-by-side, overlapping and interrupting in places. And suddenly 40 years doesn't seem like such a long time after all.

As of tomorrow, my parents will have been married for 40 years and 2 days...

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