It’s hard to define love, isn’t it.
When you live with someone and sleep with them in the same bed for twenty years you get to know the down side of someone.
God knows you could write a blog about my downside (you already have. Ed.)
Love isn’t about flowers and champagne. It’s not about sex. It’s not trivial. And actually, if the truth be told, I don’t know what it is.
It just is.
I’ve loved my wife for a little over 20 years. Tomorrow marks the occasion that we have been man and wife for richer and poorer, for better and for worse for a decent amount of time.
I’ve been lucky.
I do believe that we are blessed by our children. Three teenagers that I actually like (but don’t tell them that or it’ll all go horribly wrong.) I think I like them because Jeana has enabled that. Because she has been at home for them for their whole lives in a time when that’s a hard thing to achieve. Sure I’ve done well in business; but I’ve never been wealthy. But wealthy enough to protect that most pure and fortunate of instincts, to allow us to create a supportive home for our kids.
I saw a play at the Lyceum recently – ‘The man who had all the luck.” and I thought it reflected my life. Again, I’ve been lucky.
But that would be to dismiss a lot of things. Most of all Jeana, who has been a priceless grounding in my life.
She can tell me straight to my face when I’m being a twat. (Actually that is not an uncommon occurance. And on fewer occassions I can reciprocate.)
She can say, “OK” when I come home and tell her I’ve resigned from the business I owned.
In fact she can say “OK” when I set it up in the first place, 3 months pregnant with twins and a two year old, and planning a 30% wage cut.
Most of all she just ‘gets’ me. And I think that might be a bit of what love is about. Being inside someone’s character (soul?) so much that they know what you are about and accommodate it.
I’ve been nasty many times in our relationship, but never willfully. And I’ve got shit for it – like the day she poured a bottle of my favourite aftershave down the sink. But it’s never been such a big deal really.
An hour from now the clock will chime on our 20th anniversary. I will have been ill-prepared and ungenerous. (I made a card though.) I will certainly be far less eloquent than I have been in the last hour (if this is eloquent.)
But she’ll know.
She’ll know how important she is to me. And us.
And how much I/we love her.
Because she’s Jeana.
And if you knew Jeana like I know Jeana…
Cheers matey. Thanks for the last 20.