"Most like an arch—two weaknesses that lean
into a strength. Two fallings become firm.
Two joined abeyances become a term
naming the fact that teaches fact to mean."
from "Most Like an Arch This Marriage" by John Ciardi
When I met my husband, just about sixteen years ago this day, my interest was piqued by three things: he buttoned his barn jacket all the way to the top (because at the time this seemed rather daring), he had a nearly endless collection of J. Crew flannels (because I was pretty shallow --even for a college freshman), and he was purported to be a bit of a jerk (because who doesn't like a challenge?).
These days, the barn jacket and flannels are long gone and the jerkiness only occasional (though far less alluring than it once was), and yet I still keep him on. Some of my reasons for this are shallow: watching him score a goal in a Sunday morning soccer game makes me want to wear his letter jacket. Others are practical: I am not an ironer and he refuses to let me leave the house wrinkled.
Most important, though, is that he is the solid other half of my arch, though I probably do more than my fair share of leaning. Just last week when I thought that I'd lost my keys at the grocery store, he not only left work immediately to drive 30 minutes and bring me a spare, but when he found the missing keys in my pocket book (the one I'd been carrying with me the entire time I was frantically searching the parking lot snowbanks), he refrained from eye-rolling and even held me there in the parking lot and asked if I was okay.
I love you, Valentine. There's no one I'd rather lean on than you.
I love you, Valentine. There's no one I'd rather lean on than you.
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