That blessed arrangement; that dream within a dream*

I've been trying to go back and tie up all my loose blog ends by completing and posting those entries that I'd left unfinished and stuck in draft mode. This is one that I started back in the Fall, and have only just now completed.

"Matching Christmas sweaters..."

Vanessa and I were sharing plates of homemade pasta at a little Italian restaurant near her office. She was temping and I had yet to start my job, so we took our time--dipping bread in peppery olive oil, sipping Chianti. The place was a rare find among the generic Lexington Avenue sandwich shops and make-your-own salad places. It's the kind of NY Italian you miss when you're far from home: checkered tablecloths, yellowing photographs of Sofia Loren, and the Best of Dean Martin swelling out over the loudspeakers.

We had been talking about our impressions regarding marriage. Neither one of us is ready to "go there" just yet; we each have a list of things that we'd like to accomplish first, and an idea of who we'd like to be as women before we're ready. Unlike those who rush about like the White Rabbit, afraid that they'll miss something, we're willing to take our time. This does not, however, preclude our willingness to talk about it. I was about to be a bridesmaid for the first time, and we were trying to figure out what exactly that thing is that makes two people say: "Yeah, it's you. It will always be you."

"I'm telling you...matching Christmas sweaters," Vanessa repeated. "That's what I think of when I think of marriage. Fuzzy yarn reindeer with little pom-pom noses. Ugh."

I laughed. "You guys will never wear matching Christmas sweaters. You know that... For me, it's more like always having someone to eat breakfast with on Sundays. You know, lingering over coffee and swapping sections of The New York Times."

Her face brightened and she nodded, "yeah, I do love Sunday breakfast with him."

The conversation drifted elsewhere, but later that afternoon I started thinking about what we'd said. I realized that the things we had each described had absolutely nothing to do with marriage itself. In fact, they were little more than decontextualized images symbolizing our respective fears and desires when it comes to relationships in general.

For Vanessa, it's the loss of individuality; her fear of one day not being able to recognize a self apart from her relationship. For me, it's the yearning for constancy; a desire to finally have the opportunity to build and grow a connection with one person. We both know and understand that marriage is much more than just the wedding, and certainly more than Sunday papers and--God forbid--matching Christmas sweaters, but it's still difficult to separate these ideas from the reality we both understand lies beneath.




*Come on now...what's the quote from?