Relative Something

We make our plans, yes we do, and then real life does its best to prove how fallible we are. I might be expected to write about the best of everything that I experience in my explorations of blog-worthy tales, but the reality is, things do not always appear rosy to me. Good things in life are perceived in contrast to the not-so-good moments that also play out. In the end, what makes the difference is, how one reacts to both the good and the bad that comes their way.

One of the things that I have been reporting on over the previous 10 months is, my experience of living alone after my wife, Cyndie, moved to Boston for a job. It has had its ups and downs, but now she has reported a plan to return at the end of the summer, so my attention to the details of my solo life has waned. In the latter part of our little separation experiment, I was getting used to my solitary routine, and actually noticed some level of disruption whenever she came home to visit.

Now I will need to re-learn the art of living with someone, in fact, my spouse. I think the first difficulty I will need to manage is the prospect of talking with her again. I found it increasingly difficult to communicate across the distance and the difference of our schedules, and eventually settled myself with simply not talking with her. Unfortunately, it is an art that I am more than comfortable practicing. We are well-suited to push each other’s buttons, and Cyndie’s methods dish up dangerous communication dry spells for me. I keep joking that there are plenty of husbands in the world that would love to have days of silence from their spouse. For me, I’m afraid, it is a recipe for trouble.

Out of these lapses in communication comes a gap for me in the vision toward a horse farm. Horses are ultimately Cyndie’s domain, in which I am just the supporting cast. Left on my own, that vision fades, and I discover dreams of trekking mountains, exploring winter woods, camping, and even long distance cycling expeditions. Lately, I’m of a mind to quit the day-job, and set out on a journey with no destination, ala Then Came Bronson.

In order to renew his soul, Bronson becomes a vagabond searching for the meaning of life and seeking the experiences life has to offer (as revealed in the series pilot). During his travels, he shares his values with the people he meets along the way and lends a helping hand when he can.

For the many interests we have always shared, like music, philosophy, and raising children, most of our activities have been independent of one another. I think we have generally looked at our ability to enjoy unconnected activities as a strength, but I do feel challenged by it often enough.

In the chronicle of our adventures to sell our home and shop for a dream property to have horses, which was compounded by the sudden opportunity for Cyndie to work in Boston, it is fair that I present a dose of the wobbles and disruptions that we experience. When we get to the end of the story, these moments will provide valuable depth to the happy-ever-after that we will ultimately accomplish.