After 30 years, a new beginning

We’re closing in on 30 years (actually, 40, but we only get credit for 30).

That’s years, of course, of marriage.

It’s been an interesting 30 years. We’ve had the ups (the birth of our son) and the downs (two major illnesses and fights, sometimes even being shoved, holding the baby) but somehow, we’ve come through it all.

Sometimes I wonder, did I do this right, like when Fox News is blaring out into the family room.

Or, when he now takes over in the morning preparing his salad (he went meatless after cancer) when I want to come in and clean out the dishwasher, this, a man who had to ask how to work the oven (“press ‘on’ ”).

But somehow, we’ve managed to make it. I look at him at times and still see the person I fell in love with. At others, I think, I can’t stand to hear that story about Leonard the genius in high school who went on to become a taxi driver one more time.

I had a very hard time having our son, many medical procedures that worked, then didn’t. But he was there the whole time, not really wanting to use a donor, which was necessary for me to stay pregnant, this a man who prefers only to treat cavities and cleanings in his dental business to avoid liability.

He was nervous up until the end and then Phillip was born. And then, “I’m so glad you made me to do this.”

It’s been hard, I haven’t been working (though I published a book last year, “Counterfeit Mother,” and have sold exactly five copies, or something like that, according to my publisher). And he’s getting tired of teeth, though we’re nowhere financially near enough to retire.

But life teaches you funny things through the years. When Phillip was little and I was struggling to not be depressed that my old life was over, I remember thinking, do I still want to do this? Marriage was hard in those years, resenting each other for all the work we had to do and never thinking the other was doing enough.

All those early morning trips to school and pickups after Legos and cub scouts and soccer while he’s off playing tennis. Yes, we could have done it differently. But that’s how our parents did it, so that’s how we did it.

In later years, is this all there is? I didn’t really want to leave but I was bored and middle age makes you see all the things you thought you would have, by now, and don’t. I knew I couldn’t blame it on him but the answers I needed weren’t coming.

But then he’ll look at me when our son talks about a meeting and say, “Remember the Raccoon Lodge?” And I’m back to the secret memory of our first night together, with Ralph Kramden carrying on about too many meetings while we were engaged in something else.

Then a friend texts to say his mother died, and I remember our history, how, when we met, they’d just come back from a trip to the Catskills and the friend had cheated on the girlfriend. Not a great way to remember him but they’ve been friends for life and though they haven’t talked in years, the friend reached out to him like family.

And that’s when it occurred to me. We’re family. It’s taken us many years and upsets and slights and resentments and what-ifs but we’re each other’s life. Yes, we have our kid and that’s a reason. But there’s a bigger reason. Love usually wins in the end. And this isn’t the end. After 30 years, it’s a new beginning.