Relative Something

Today is September 19th. Thirty-one years ago today, Cyndie and I were married outdoors on the grounds of the Noerenberg Gardens on the shore of Lake Minnetonka, in Minnesota.

I wanted to have a sunrise wedding, but since that wouldn’t be appealing or convenient for guests, we compromised and made it 11:30. I got to have it in the morning, and the rest of the stakeholders were able to live with a middle-of-the-day ceremony.

The weather that day turned out to be a classic warm and sunny September day, which was a relief, because every day for the week prior had been rainy.

I don’t remember much in the way of specifics from that day, but one story I have often told is about the music. My friend, David K., and his then wife, Sue, had written a special song, just for us, for the event. I remember that hearing the song during the ceremony was one of the more emotional moments for me.

Weeks later, after we had returned from our honeymoon and were settling into a regular routine, I had occasion to ask David for a copy of the lyrics. He said that he would look for them. We did not have any recordings made of the ceremony, so the only version I had of their singing our song was in my memory. In time, David reported that he could not locate the lyrics.

The song was written exclusively for us, performed once, during the ceremony, and never again. Nothing recorded, and nothing written remains.

Seven years after we were married, we spent our anniversary in the hospital for the birth of our son, Julian. It was an incredible way to make this date even more special for us.

Cyndie and I coordinate buying a joint gift for each other on our anniversary. One year, we bought a Dyson vacuum. That’s true love, there: showing your love by buying a home appliance that is more expensive than you are comfortable spending.

This year we bought each other a tractor. Our love keeps growing.

It is another weekend, and I am not visiting our new farm or driving to the lake. I am working at the day-job on a Saturday, again. I am not home, sorting my things, packing the keepers and giving away the rest. I am earning the wage that will help pay our new mortgage, so I guess I’m contributing in that way. It doesn’t feel the same.

Not that I really want to pack. It is a necessary evil. But it feels like the right thing to be doing. Pretty much everything else is done. I need to do some research to investigate the service providers we will want to have, but the real tangible task lying before us is, packing things into boxes. Each day that passes, in which I don’t pack, is lost. I see it as, “pay me now, or pay me later.” I prefer to pay in advance.

Even though I am not packing, there is still progress being made. Much of the credit goes to Cyndie, but I am lending moral support toward her efforts. Last night we hosted dinner for our next-door neighbors. Of course, that meant more opportunity to give away books. But, Cyndie didn’t stop there. Oh, no. There were four little girls attending, and they were prime targets for a wide range of items that were recently discovered in the depths of our storage spaces. There were some toys, puzzles, and miscellaneous kid-friendly stuff, but most importantly, there were dolls.

It is a wonderful treat to see the things we have stored for years, now being brought back to life, in the faces of people on the receiving end. They are helping us greatly by agreeing to take what we don’t intend to keep. It is a mutually beneficial transaction, for sure. The excitement of young girls was icing on the cake for us, last night.

It was great to spend the time with the neighbors. Unfortunately, in the routine of our usual daily lives, we make little more than passing contact. Now that we are moving, there was reason to make extra effort for a get-together. Seems silly to have waited until we are moving, to give them this additional level of attention.

Makes me think we should put in similar energy, much sooner, to meet and greet our new neighbors after we settle into our new place.

Time is moving at the very same speed that it always does, and just like so many times before, it seems to be moving really slow and incredibly fast, all at the same time. Blink. Blink.

I found a list of things to do in preparation of moving. It starts with tasks 4 to 6 weeks out. According to that list, we are doing pretty well so far. I think we will be just fine, if we continue to make progress at the rate which Cyndie is proceeding at lately. It is a good thing she is between jobs right now, because she is making full-time work out of uprooting items that have been stationary for most of the 25 years we have lived in this house.

I’m feeling a bit lost, due to an unbelievable amount of simultaneous deadlines hitting at the day-job and exceeding our capacity, which is taking every spare moment and energy that I have of late. I would much prefer to be working at home with Cyndie to prepare for our move.

It is making time move fast for me. Then I think about how much I want to get to our new property, and time seems to be moving very slow. So, I think about the preparations we need to do before moving day, and time seems to move really fast again.

It makes me dizzy. Imagine that!