February marked Ralph & I's Happy Third and I could not even be more grateful. Preparing for our soon move halfway across the world in a few months, I was not really expecting anything from Ralph. But to my surprise, I woke up to a trail of hershey kisses leading to a single-stemmed rose. All I could do was smile and thank God for another year in our marriage.
Still and all, I could not help but think about the future and the many, many years we are about to face. Between Ralph & I, I obviously am the Hopeless Romantic. I love the "just because" flowers, cards, letters, chocolates, serenades, trinkets, the poetry, the sweet nothings and all the outward manifestation of romantic and sacrificial love. Which is why all these thoughts came crossing my mind, will our romance still be alive after X number of years? Or are we just going to fall into the same category as those married couples saying, "we're just comfortable with each other, it feels like we're just roommates now." Will we go through the ups and downs of what they call the Seven Year Itch? Personally, I really hate the idea of the Seven Year Itch, of this inclination to cheat after seven years of marriage, especially if couples use it as an excuse for betraying the same person they promised forever with. Anyhow, I really do not dread hitting the seven year mark, but what scares me is to reach that point when Ralph & I become just roommates, when the romantic fires fizzle out, when the roses, candies, hugs and kisses stop coming and when everything else becomes a habit.
As many couples would agree, marriage is not all rainbows and cotton candy. And I do not expect it to be. Although I love all the romanticism, I do not expect candlelit dinners every night or tangible gifts at that. For this Happy Third, I simply hope our marriage to not become like a cozy blanket on a cold, winter day, but to grow like a steady fire that warms up the whole room. I hope those two-minute calls and short but sweet emails of "I Love You's" on a busy day and those errands done to help each other never fail to cease. And when the seventh year finally arrives, I hope our feet are itching to run, our lips itching to converge, our hands waiting to lock and our bodies itching to fall towards one another. And if at one point we find ourselves still running empty on romance, I hope, hope, hope and pray to God that Ralph & I will never, even for one second, stop trying.
Still and all, I could not help but think about the future and the many, many years we are about to face. Between Ralph & I, I obviously am the Hopeless Romantic. I love the "just because" flowers, cards, letters, chocolates, serenades, trinkets, the poetry, the sweet nothings and all the outward manifestation of romantic and sacrificial love. Which is why all these thoughts came crossing my mind, will our romance still be alive after X number of years? Or are we just going to fall into the same category as those married couples saying, "we're just comfortable with each other, it feels like we're just roommates now." Will we go through the ups and downs of what they call the Seven Year Itch? Personally, I really hate the idea of the Seven Year Itch, of this inclination to cheat after seven years of marriage, especially if couples use it as an excuse for betraying the same person they promised forever with. Anyhow, I really do not dread hitting the seven year mark, but what scares me is to reach that point when Ralph & I become just roommates, when the romantic fires fizzle out, when the roses, candies, hugs and kisses stop coming and when everything else becomes a habit.
As many couples would agree, marriage is not all rainbows and cotton candy. And I do not expect it to be. Although I love all the romanticism, I do not expect candlelit dinners every night or tangible gifts at that. For this Happy Third, I simply hope our marriage to not become like a cozy blanket on a cold, winter day, but to grow like a steady fire that warms up the whole room. I hope those two-minute calls and short but sweet emails of "I Love You's" on a busy day and those errands done to help each other never fail to cease. And when the seventh year finally arrives, I hope our feet are itching to run, our lips itching to converge, our hands waiting to lock and our bodies itching to fall towards one another. And if at one point we find ourselves still running empty on romance, I hope, hope, hope and pray to God that Ralph & I will never, even for one second, stop trying.
I slept but my heart was awake.
Listen! My beloved is knocking:
"Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one.
My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."
I have taken off my robe - must I put it on again?
I have washed my feet - must I soil them again?
My beloved thrust his hand through the latch opening;
my heart began to pound for him.
I arose to open for my beloved,
but my beloved had left; he was gone.
My heart sank at his departure
I looked for him but did not find him.
I called him but he did not answer.
The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.
They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen of the walls!
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you - if you find my beloved, what will you tell him?
Tell him I am faint with love.
-Song of Solomon 5:2-8
Listen! My beloved is knocking:
"Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one.
My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."
I have taken off my robe - must I put it on again?
I have washed my feet - must I soil them again?
My beloved thrust his hand through the latch opening;
my heart began to pound for him.
I arose to open for my beloved,
but my beloved had left; he was gone.
My heart sank at his departure
I looked for him but did not find him.
I called him but he did not answer.
The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.
They beat me, they bruised me; they took away my cloak, those watchmen of the walls!
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you - if you find my beloved, what will you tell him?
Tell him I am faint with love.
-Song of Solomon 5:2-8
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