A sweeping, panoramic view of the city skyline breezes past the iconic landmarks of the World Trade Center and Empire State Building before zooming in on Times Square. Across from the M&M store, a handsome, well-dressed young man in suit and tie is leaving work amid the heyday and bustle of tourists. In any other part of the world it would have been long past rush hour, but here, in the city that never sleeps, it is just picking up. Our hero raises his face and smiles with the quiet knowledge of what awaits him at home: a heart, home-cooked meal and the loving wife that prepared it, fresh, bright, and eager…
That is what my life would be like if it were a movie.
Upon second thought, depends who was taking the movie. Woody Allen and the skyline part would hold up great, but Oliver would be a wizened older man and I’d be a precocious teenager at some city prep school. Joss Whedon and we’d probably both get eaten by inhuman zombies.
More accurately: this is what my life would be like if I directing the movie. Clean faces, manicured nails, predictability and uniformly happy endings. It’s a good thing nobody lets me direct life or movies; we’d never learn and we’d get bored right fast.
So the deal is that what with Oliver’s career in finance and with Zoe’s tender young age, Oliver and I have very little time together these days. Each equipped with our own creative visions for how each precious minute ought to play out, we quickly slaughter the night with our battalions of expectations.
What does that make me? An artist, perhaps. Or a screenwriter, perhaps. But certainly not a wife and definitely not gracious.
*enter gratitude stage left*
I’m so lucky to have found my husband and so lucky that we have the entire rest of our lives to do nothing but enjoy each other’s company and learn to love each other better. I’m so grateful we have the opportunity to raise a family together and every minute that we do together have is a blessing.
*exuent expectations and resentment*
This beats the movies any day.