Time Stands Still
Seven years married to this incredible human! You know what? This is an intense year for us, y'all. Not so much the one gone by so far (though it had its moments), but the one ahead of us. Our teenager is in her senior year of high school; in fact senior photos are this week (and not that parents are supposed to be there, but I'll be in an entirely different city at a fashion show at New York Fashion Week — ack!). Life is marching on for everyone; work is moving at breakneck speed for us both, I've been asked to speak at an event next week, in October we'll travel to Chicago for a friend's wedding, while the kiddo has some sort of at-sea expedition coming up through one of her courses as well. My baby brother is expecting a little girl in the new year, and come Christmas Eve our little girl will turn eighteen.
This time next year she'll be in college heaven only knows where (although we have some idea, but M's made me promise not to follow her wherever the petite ends up studying). We'll have sold or be in the process of selling the house, packed up and headed toward or settling in someplace else entirely, very possibly NOLA.
Everything — everything — is going to be utterly different in twelve months' time. We've hit this incredible milestone together, and the future is a complex mix of knowns and known unknowns and bona fide we-don't-even-know-what unknowns. It's indescribable, to be here staring it all down, side by side, an entire decade in each other's lives. It's like we're bloody gladiators. At least we know our seventh year of marriage won't be dull in the least!
Last Sunset in Sagres
Alright, if I don't quit talkin' about all that, I'm going to cry, and now is not the time. (The final scene in Toy Story 3 is more or less on loop in my heart/brain constantly these days.) It's a happy day!
I wanted to share this beautiful sunset with you from The End of the World in Sagres, Portugal. It was our last night and we nearly missed it, but steadied our glasses of vinho verde and set out for the fort for the third time. Well, the fort is fine and good, but we spied some hikers emerging from trails we had no idea were even there, took one foolish look at each other, and made a beeline.
Of course I was already halfway down the path, marveling at the deep amber light against the rocks. It was treacherous, it was incredible, and a little foolish. We thought we'd make it to the beach, but after stopping to climb an outcropping that literally crumbled under us to a 20 or 30-ft. drop to the beach below, we scrambled back down and assessed the descent to the shore. Too steep, too few footholds, and the rock rose so aggressively on either side of us that we couldn't see whether or not there were more accessible paths back into town; there was no way to get back up if we managed to get down in one piece.
A few beachcombers jogged past, but we'd learned enough of the locals to know what was easy to them in the light could be nigh on impossible for us past dusk. Even our own worn path would get questionable in the dark, so we made ourselves comfortable where we were, cracked open our cans of Sagres beer, courtesy of the B&B we were staying in, and toasted to the end of our stay on the wild and rugged coast.
The beer was terrible! We couldn't stop laughing. Well, we laughed until the sun mesmerized us into silence, and then we settled into the waves and honeyed sunshine and deafening surf and the beautiful, monstrous constance of the Atlantic Ocean.
There is nothing like the sun setting on the "right" side of the ocean once again, that feeling of nothing at all between us and the sea and the sun, a whole world at our backs. Ethereal quiet, a forever sky surreal at our fingertips. I can't imagine not having that feeling, and I'm so glad to have it with her, wherever we are together on this gorgeous, wasted earth.
Happy anniversary to us! Here's to the next seven, and the seven after that and after that and after that (when we've stopped counting)!