There’s a part of me that would like to get back to a ‘routine’ of sorts. I think we all crave familiarity and ‘safe zone’ living. For me, safe zone living is going around the ‘circles of death’ in Cuenca in my Mongoose, but you get the picture. Instead of high wire gymnastics on Mongo, I’ve taken on my life with the love of my life, Rachel. It has been magical and magnificent, exciting and exhilarating, and yes at moments frenetic, frenzied, and even freakish. Now before you accuse me of wilting into some sort of alliterative gibberish, please understand one thing. It’s all good. The woman I fell in love with 47 years ago is real and not a dream. She is everything and more than what any man could hope for in this world or the next. I am blessed. We are blessed. Life is so good.
The first order of business (well, at least the first public order of business) in arriving at the airport in Tulsa was to assess Rachel’s progress in consolidating her life’s accumulation of things for moving to a more simple and humble life in Ecuador. The progress was good.
The second order of business was to get married. We’ve both been in white marriages before. This one was brown, well blue actually, as in jeans and sandals. We chose Tennessee as our legal entity for recognizing our intent to savor our lives together. Why Tennessee? Well, you see the Volunteers see getting married as an act of love and life changing intent rather than as a significant legal event. It fit our purposes well. We got married in a county courthouse with a licensed Baptist minister. Our legal documents were completed in 20 minutes after we answered some rather difficult questions about our histories. I don’t mean difficult because we were embarrassed or sorrowed, I mean because dates are hard to remember when you’re 60 or close to it. Well that’s my age now anyway. We had our wedding dinner at Kentucky Fried Chicken and proceeded to Mark Twain National Forest in Missouri where our nuptial nirvana awaited.
You have to picture us ripping through the winding highways and byways of Tennessee, Arkansas, and Missouri in Rachel’s red turbo Miata, rag top down, her hair flowing and billowing in a poetic and graceful dance. My own three hairs were ecstatic as well. We were in bliss. We looked at our hands where our new found hardware gave reality to our act that we had just culminated. We are married!!!!!!
The trees were just reaching a zenith of color, and yes, when you’re in love autumn leaves are just a little more beautiful, songs are just a little sweeter, and the person sitting beside you is even more radiant than what your wildest dream can conjure. You see I have history with Rachel. We were 12 when we met. I was in love with her then but she was unattainable. She still is, but God is good. The person I had always dreamed about was finally at my side and we are ready for writing a new chapter in our lives.
.
We spent a couple nights in a log house out in the boonies. Well, we didn’t exactly rough it. There was a private hot tub, a Jacuzzi tub, a loft with a queen sized bed, and yes we packed some wine and rib eyes too. We strolled along our own private river where we skipped stones and found lucky rocks with holes in them. We drove around the countryside looking at breathtaking color in the trees and the color of the locals. Was this wedded bliss? I’ve heard about this before. For a few moments there was an absence of bliss, but I discovered afterward that it was merely an adjustment period of recognizing the divine nature of the woman I married and the magic words ‘you’re right dear’. How easy those words can be said. Why is it that men hold on so strenuously to the notion that we could think otherwise? Does it really matter who is right? I’ve thrown away the scoreboard.
If you read my blogs on a regular basis you know how I extol the beauty and grace of Ecuador and its wonderful people. I confess that coming back to Middle America was both a wakeup call and a reminder of our roots. America is beautiful. Her people are good. I am proud to be an American. I also confess that when our time in the States is completed, I believe we will be able and ready and excited to come home. Home is where the heart is. My heart is where Rachel is. We can live anywhere, but our new home and our new life together is in Cuenca.
