Sunday, March 18, 2007
A Paper Wedding Anniversary
It's March 19 tomorrow. Two years ago tomorrow, D and I got married in Glenfalloch Gardens in Dunedin, New Zealand. Since then, we've moved to a different continent, had our honeymoon backpacker-style through Egypt and Jordan, had another wedding in Singapore by the beach, changed jobs, eaten lots of cake and joined the gym (as a result of all that cake).
We planted a tree to the tunes of a bagpipe in Glenfalloch, a dogwood to be exact, as recommended by the resident gardener at Glenfalloch. Then D's Aunt J read an excerpt from Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres. Two years later, the words still hold true.
Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love, have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from the branches, they find that they are one tree, and not two.
So this post is dedicated to my long-suffering D, and to those of you who are grappling with the quarks and quasars of love, friendship and everything in between.
(Note: these beautiful photos were taken by my talented brother-in-law, L, thanks so much! It means so much to have these photos to remember our day by.)