Road Trips and Rocking Chairs

Even as a moonstruck newlywed, I was determined to work on our relationship as a couple. If and when we had kids, the two of us would always be front and center.
 

And then we had kids. Exhaustion hit and the business and busyness of raising two daughters left us little time to focus on one another. Our girls were three and five the year my husband turned forty. It was high time for a get-away weekend to rekindle our love. It would be a surprise.

 

His peers at work expected me early on a Friday afternoon to sweep him away to a cozy, clean cabin three hours north of where we lived in a suburb of Minneapolis. We would be greeted with a basket of goodies upon our arrival.

 

My husband looked bewildered as we exited his office building. I couldn’t wait to hear his response to my surprise.  He turned to me.

 

“Will we have a TV at this place?” he asked.

 

“Well…no, I don’t think so.” I replied warily.

 

A TV? I thought to myself; couldn’t he imagine a weekend away from everything with his bride? His next words hit me hard.

 

“It’s World Series time you know.”

 

Uh oh.

 

My plans to avoid rush hour traffic went by the wayside as we scurried home to retrieve a TV. After sitting in traffic for hours, we became lost in the darkness of the north woods of Minnesota.  Finally, after an extended time of circling the general vicinity, we spotted a small sign heralding our destination.

 

The tired looking attendant handed us our basket and our key.  Relief shone on my face as we unlocked the door to the cabin and it was everything I had imagined. Stepping in, I turned to the side to witness the love of my life’s reaction to the lively fire and the north woods atmosphere.

 

My romantic partner for the weekend was bent over plugging in his precious television set right next to the kindling fire.

 

There was absolutely no reception.

 

He looked at me, once again, in bewilderment, followed immediately by a look of panic. He moved quickly around the small sitting area and kitchen, into the bedroom, and returned with a small clock radio.  There were beads of perspiration on his forehead. Once again, he bent over with cord in hand.

 

And once again, no reception.

 

The look on his face moved from panic to hopelessness. We sat in the two comfortable rockers in an uncomfortable silence. My mind swirled. The anticipation, the hope, the romance of the long-awaited weekend came crashing down in confusion.

 

What would we talk about all weekend? What was I thinking? Where were the kids when you needed them?

I  suggested we just go to sleep and start fresh in the morning.

The next day dawned a crisp and clear October day. The view across the lake was spectacular, the trees a vibrant array of color. After a long trip to the nearest grocery store, we decided to go for a walk.

Finally, romance! We headed out hand in hand into the beauty of nature.

That’s when we heard the first shots.

 

“Oh no!” my husband exclaimed. “It’s hunting season! We better take cover.”

 

So much for our weekend away. We took another drive and went out for dinner. There was no sign of a sports bar. We left early Sunday morning.

There has been a wide assortment of mistakes made over what now spans twenty years of marriage. Some valuable lessons have been learned.  It is now understood we need to agree on a spot for a get-away. My girlfriends and I shake our heads at our clueless spouses when we spend the weekend at a cozy, clean cabin in the north woods. My husband and his buddies don’t give us a second thought as they huddle together in front of the large screen TV with the great reception.

Years ago, one of our daughters told us she liked to hear the sound of our voices when she was going to sleep. We bought two comfortable rockers of our own. And a tradition took hold for us to sit and talk when our daughters were tucked safely in their beds. Our voices soothed them. All was right with the world when they knew we were near.

Our times to talk have changed, along with the furniture and along with the season of our lives, but the tradition remains. Our current comfortable purple (yes I said purple!) rockers are wearing out fast. Our daughters go to bed long after we retire for the night.

We wait and listen for the sound of their voices as we are tucked into bed. And when we hear them, sometimes late at night, we know all is right with the world.

The uncomfortable silences of old have somehow turned into jewels of memory. That moonstruck honeymooner has grown up some from her somewhat naïve but always well-intentioned views.  And the often hard-learned lessons of marriage have matured into the well-worn comfort of a life together that has and will continue to stand the test of time.

And so, with laughter and tears, frustration and worry, with deep joy intertwined with deep sorrow, our lives have merged into one. The wonders of watching our daughters grow into beautiful young women cannot be easily expressed. We will continue to wait together as we listen for the sound of their voices, coming and going through the years to come.

In the meantime, we understand our need for time alone, just as we understand the need to be with friends. And our hands still reach for each other when we go for a walk. We are ready to take cover together when we hear the distant sound of danger and, along with good conversation, we can rock away the hours in a comfortable silence.

“For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife and the two will become one flesh.” Ephesians 5:31