Adrift in Quiet Waters

He cares more for his work then he does me, she tells me, he doesn't bother to remember my birthday, he won't help with the baby, he disappears when my family visits. She is dry eyed and calm, not exactly matter of fact but close to it, as if she's talking about someone else. He wants to be best friends, she continues, not married. And that's just not enough for me.

She seems grounded in this conversation, her voice is firm and her tone resolute if a little nostalgic. I begin to understand that she has thought this through, that the decision to end her marriage has been made. Papers have been filed, custody decided, living arrangements altered. She is not about to retreat or change her mind, choosing instead to openly admit her mistake and move on. She will neither make the best of it nor suffer in silence while life passes her by. I won't make my child miserable by staying in a loveless marriage and being miserable myself, she says with a shrug, She needs two parents who love her and I need a husband not a best friend.

This conversation, predictably enough, starts me to thinking about the odd and unlikely partnerships that we form during our lives and that leads to imagery - two people setting sail in a small boat, the wind at their backs and everything appearing to promise a long and peaceful journey. One, a hopeless romantic, imagines riding the waves and is overflowing with joy. Tumbling emotions spill out at every turn and she is starry eyed with hope. The other, a placid pragmatist, prone to tamping down his feelings and being most at home with comfortable silence, looks only to drift in quiet waters. They each, in their own way, think in terms of risk and reward, they are young, they love each other, they can overlook their differences. Marriage is the next natural step. Neither anticipates that two people steering in different directions will capsize the boat and while each has a moment or two of doubt, in the end they unite, take their vows, and begin new lives. In due time, a child is born, whether her roots are in passion or a blend of tradition and obligation, no one can say but her presence is clarifying. The small boat is barely large enough to accommodate three, especially when two are in mild but constant opposition and inevitably, it breaks apart on the thinly disguised reefs. Friendship, it turns out, survives the journey and continues. Love does not.

I imagine all this as I listen to her speak of loneliness and forgotten birthdays, of feelings that go unappreciated and unheard, and of meaningless conversations about irrelevant matters. If we're not careful, I think but don't say, we can drown in our own expectations.

It's nearly Christmas, a hard time to separate and start anew but the journey goes on, if not for better or worse, at least for the foreseeable future. We travel on the high seas or drift in quiet waters, together or apart, but the journey goes on.