Saturday, 10 May 2014

The Grass is Not Always Greener




I’m at the unenviable age where I probably know as many people in second marriages as first. For all sort of reasons.  It is an age when people, parents, suddenly screech to a stop for a moment and take stock of their lives.  There they stand, as life blurs around them, kids whirling from sports to social to exam modes, needing them only for food and money for survival.  Their lifelong partner appears distracted, and running down another path.  All are hooked up to the bright lights of technology which answers all their whims, from social interaction to education.  Meals are snatched, conversations are static, and life grinds on.  And the grass seems to be greener, hell, it seems to be growing, on the other side.





I’m talking about The Middle Ages.  And this is the time when wanderlust can take over.  Or maybe just lust. And it tumbles into a whole load of miscommunication, spite, anger and then things are irrevocably damaged.  And it’s happened to a number of my friends. And all those youthful happy Ever Afters are washed away by waves of Don’t Care and You’re a Wreck.  And it messes up a lifetime of trust and certainties.  And it gets bitter.  And children get hurt.  Friends become assessed on viability, families on availability and potential new mates on reliability. The tide has turned, on which they float like miserable bits of flotsam and jetsam.

And eventually they emerge from the Sea of Uncertainty, shiny and new, their outer shells hardening a little in the sun, but brighter and more colourful.  And a new mate is found, new friendships formed, tenuous tendrils of trust being nurtured.  New hobbies are sought, resolutions made, and happiness is only a fingertip away.

But what happens if you both cling to the wreckage, that broken and shattered hull that contained all of your world?  And you reach under the seat, your fingertips touching a small package in which you find a bright orange life jacket, but only one.  And in a natural movement, you offer it to your partner, because despite everything, you wouldn’t want to live without them anyway. 

Sometimes, we need to stand still for a moment.  And hear the birdsong above the mechanical squeals of technology and the storms in your head.  And realise that actually the most important things are right here, right now.


Before they’re gone.



I would welcome any comments!