It’s February, and I have been away from this space for way too long, because... well, life happens. And to think all those months I had many little stories to tell. I just did not have the time to sit down and write them and share them with you. Or maybe I did not make more of an effort to make time. Exactly why, I do not know. I had, in fact, dreamed of many mornings when I would wake up and paddle down to the poolside where, under our beautiful mango tree, I would write on my laptop. I wanted to be under the morning light, beads of sweat here and there, maybe on my face and shoulders, but yes, the thought of being productive and having quiet time under the sunlight made for quite a happy thought. I want/need to make friends with the sun more this year, and that is part of a continuing and conscious effort that includes going to bed earlier than I ever have over the past few decades — no, actually, make that over the past forever.
But wait, I digress; and chances are one day I will share how much of a struggle it has been to try and change that old habit of sleeping oh-so-late. So writing under the mango tree did not quite happen; instead, I have all these short stories, scribblings in notebooks and paper napkins, scraps of paper, some are typed in my phone under Notes. They are here, there, everywhere, and one day I will find an afternoon to gather them like a bouquet close to the heart, and make heads and tails of where I was and why I wrote what I did. But for now, it is February, and Valentine’s is right around the bend and my immediate task is to write about how to keep the fire burning.
Married 18 years already, Richard and I are the kind of parents that sometimes embarrass our 16-year-old daughter with our — for lack of a better word — mushiness. (LOL, sorry, Juliana, for disclosing that). Yes, we are that, maybe more me than him because mushiness is a very girl thing, anyway, but my man is very indulgent and accepting of it all so I guess at some point the line is blurred in terms of who is more this or that and you both become like a single unit. We write each other notes, all of which I keep, we send each other messages and photos, we watch TV with our limbs in a happy tangle, and when I am sad or not feeling well the most comforting place is his chest. Anyway. I’m always asked: How does a relationship become solid, and steady, and sturdy?
I hesitate to give a rundown of do’s and don’ts because I know there are couples who have been together much longer than the 18 years Richard and I share between us to date so my sharing, in this page here and now, is to be taken as just that, a sharing of what works for us. It’s been admittedly hard over the past year. Because of the work we do, we have had to deal with spending a lot of time apart. But yes, instead of lamenting how ideally we should have more time not just as a couple but as a family, we just make the best of the days we are together every week. I’m endlessly thankful for Facetime, and technology in general, because at least we can connect many times a day, even if geography must dictate that we cannot be physically together. Juliana often laughs at me because when my phone rings and it’s her dad on Facetime, I automatically put my hair down (he has this knack for calling when I am doing chores, or fixing the storage room, or when I am moving around furniture with the helpers as I rearrange the guest rooms) and look for good light. I know, it might be a bit too much for others, but hey, that’s just me. Which reminds me of my Lola Carmen, she who I wish was still alive today. She randomly told us, her female grandchildren, one day: 1) Pearl earrings make a woman even more beautiful than she already is, and 2) Never bring your man to a restaurant or coffee shop (or any space, for that matter) with fluorescent lighting. To be dreamily beautiful, a woman must stay under the glow of the yellow light (the second explains why for Facetime I always look for the best possible light within a five-second dash). I told this to a friend and she says she has since always made a beeline to the corner with the lampshade in any sitting area! She perches there and believes she is the most beautiful woman in the room! And chances are, because she believes it, she is!
That’s probably a marriage basic — to not be so complacent that you don’t fix yourself up for him. You do it for yourself, but you also do it for your man. I know someone who, while she was on holiday with her then-boyfriend, would wake up early just for a few minutes to put on some subtle cheek tint and gargle with mouthwash. Then she would creep back into bed still in her sleepwear. We were laughing so much when she told the story but to this day her husband says he remembers how he would wake up to this beautiful woman beside him, sleeping so peacefully with flushed cheeks, and how when he would hug her she smelled of vanilla and flowers (and mint if he only knew she practically swallowed half a bottle of mouthwash!). But see, a beautiful memory does live on, and never discount the fact that men do notice (and remember!) details. So ladies, a gentle reminder: looking good even in the most mundane of circumstances never gets old!
And then there are the usual suspects: communicate, know when to speak and when to keep quiet, fight to protect the family, invest time, don’t get used to spending so much time apart lest it begins to feel normal. Nothing comes from nothing. The most beautiful relationships are those that are nurtured. As my 16-year-old wisely said when I asked her what she observes in my relationship with her dad she replied via SMS: “IDK Mom, it’s the small things that don’t look like much but actually play a big part in your relationship. Like Dad always cooks for you when you’re hungry at weird times.” I then messaged Richard, because I also wanted a man’s take and this is what I got back: 1) Love your wife like you’ve never loved before; 2) Never tire of expressing your love to your wife, no matter how redundant.
For my part, I only know what I know about love. How it breaks you in a beautiful way. And softens you. That it sometimes bites but always, in its entirety, is many shades of wonderful. And that if there was a feeling any human being would be so unfortunate to never experience it would be that of falling in love. Because it is magical, perhaps in a different way for everyone, but magical: definitely, yes. And oh-so-beautiful. It is many things all at once.
Recently, we took a break, just the two of us as a couple, and each of the seven days we were together I was gently reminded of how blessed I am to be married to this man — sturdy and gentle and strong and reliable, who nurtures and encourages me to grow. I do not have the kind of strength he has, but I draw from it, and am inspired by it. The time we spent together felt like such a gift, a balm to the wounds of a busy life and an often-stressful schedule that can be quite toxic. We needed that, and I am grateful we had that. Love commits you to being that kind of person who gives fully, whose heart can be reshaped constantly. True, there may be many grand theories about how love stories can become great — books are written, movies made. But I’ve come to realize that making it bloom kinda just happens over the course of many everyday days, random as they are, when you choose to let it flow. There is no formula, no manual, just an instinctive choice to make room for it, and let it in.