The 8th Year

And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.

The Bible - Colossians 3:14

On 11th August, we celebrated eight years of marriage. The day when we were head over heels in love, dreamy and all set for a great future. It suddenly dawns on us that we got through eight years of our marriage. When we just got married, I thought we would sing together, read together and dance in the kitchen. I thought I’ll get to wear a pretty dress, and go to one those romantic dinner dates. But it turns out that most of the time, we settle for ad-hoc eating stops in the middle of an errand trip, at the Karambu juice kadai, Yelaneer kadai, chicken Pakoda kadai, Idly Beef curry kadai and the Aavin milk parlour wearing flip flops and work clothes. These places don’t set the mood for romance, but we feel like college buddies hanging out and having fun. He listens to loud preachers, and I go and shut the volume down. I switch on the music to sing along, and he sings along in a teasing voice to shut me up. I pick a book to read, and he switches off the light. I’m riding on the bike with him always talking about something, and he’s saying, ‘Angu paaru pudhu Biryani kadai’. He’s told me like a zillion times not to leave the clothes on the iron table, but I make the poor man repeat it. We have petty repetitive fights, which neither of us can let go off. My brain functions better if my room looks like Saravanna stores. For Dawson, the room must be dim-lit like a Chinese restaurant even if it means that he has to search for the keys on the keyboard. I don’t notice the tiny things that need attention around the house. A domestic disorder doesn’t bother me. I don’t enjoy cleaning. Whereas, the mop is the first thing he notices when he steps inside our home. I hate the mopstick in my house so much so that she feels like the other woman in my husband’s life. After a conflict, I usually get silent for a couple of days. Because, during that time, I carefully plan my conversation. I ensure that I deliver my words with enough persuasion to coerce him to into seeing my point of view. However, I rarely succeed. Despite my careful choice of words, Dawson sticks to his worldview. I feel defeated, frustrated me and a million miles away from him. But then, he picks up my hand and squeezes it, saying ‘sorry’ because he does not know what else to say. That’s enough for me to understand that though we see things differently, he still cares. Though he doesn’t get it, he is always open and receptive to my feelings. I need something between nurturance and romance to fill my love-tank. However, Dawson sees parenting and domestic help as his way of showing love. I’m always looking for an opportunity to reconnect and remember the time when we were just married. I am quick to recognize such moments; however, Dawson can’t. I cannot understand why He uses up all our quiet moments in other activity, or listening to political opinions, or mopping the floor or cleaning the car, rather than investing it in me. Suddenly, I feel like a third wheel, his shadow and his useless sidekick. When I talk to him about it, he says, ‘You are important to me, and that is the truth. You have to believe it.’ Though I’m hurt, I see the truth in what he says. He always carries heavy bags after shopping. He checks on my parents even when I forget. He’s entirely transparent with all his spending. In addition to all our joint account plastic money, he puts extra cash my purse when I need to go somewhere without him. One day he hands me a Red Bull can because I was complaining of low energy for the past week. He’s not great with words. But for my sake, he gives me beautiful cards and fills up the whole space with sweet words. When I’m rushing to pack lunch for my daughter after waking up late, instead of scolding my lateness, he offers to buy her lunch on the way to school. He puts up with my chaos most of the time. The food I make is not always pleasant on the taste buds, but he never complains. He can eat anything I put on his plate and drink all the strange herbal decoctions I make him. Though I do not make any monetary contribution to the family, he doesn’t make any financial decision without my consent. When kids show any disrespect to me, he is quick to correct them, ‘Amma kitta yenna sathum?!!’ When I bring him coffee, he never forgets to ask, “Where is yours?” Dawson does not always meet my more in-depth needs. But through the years, I have learned to notice and appreciate how he expresses his love for me. I celebrate how we have so much in common such as our core values, our parenting goals, our moral outlook. Both of us are deeply spiritual, and our spiritual worldview enlightens all our perspectives. We have the vision to serve God by serving people, and this overrides all our differences, our most significant investments are on people, relationships and young kids. Though the wires in our brain are different, our love for God and our commitment to Him brings us closer to each other and enable us to see the beauty in our flaws.

Our marriage is far from perfect, but we depend on Grace to see past our expectations and appreciate each other for who we are. Happily Married to an amazing man -Cynthia