I've been thinking about being married and my friend, who's never been married, these past few days. Seems the best way to express my thoughts on the subject is in a poem....
May and June, the wedding season,
take me back to days of writing
‘Mrs. Bob Lewis’ over and over again,
covering pages in my notebook
in print, in script, in cursive.
A few months later, I’m writing
‘Mrs. Ed Hutchinson’, like before
only trying out this new name,
wondering if HE is the ONE,
planning our wedding, our family.
Years, and a couple of lovers later,
I ask, will I ever find the ONE, get married,
have kids and live happily ever after?
A romp of many more years passes
with a few more lovers, fleeing hopes.
I give up on marriage. I am tainted
with the failure of spinsterhood, yet
oddly comfortable in my little home,
paid in full, and my sole proprietorship,
comfortably alone, most of the time.
Meanwhile, my friends are married,
some of them divorced and married again.
I attend bridal showers, weddings.
The baby showers begin, followed by
graduations and the kids’ weddings.
Part of me envies this pattern,
while part of me questions
‘Is this really all it’s cracked up to be?’
Still, it seems my parents would love
for me to settle into a marriage.
So, yes, at age 55, I meet someone
who seems to be the ONE,
the man of my dreams. We marry.
We struggle to find a balance
between independence and partnership.
A good friend, now in her 70’s,
with a few sweet lovers in her life,
never married. We meet for lunch.
She’s retiring, talking about travel,
making plans, exciting times, happy.
Neither of us has children or grand-kids.
Both of us are capable of great adventures,
she with only herself to consider,
me with a partner, a husband,
who has his own ideas about the future.
Pity not the single ones, the spinsters.
Believe not that marriage is necessary
for contentment in a woman’s life.
Either way, with or without the ONE,
we will have our glory and our pain.