Three years ago we toured a valley of giant sequoia trees, some of which had been standing for hundreds of years. One tree was over 1500 years old. I felt a kind of reverential awe for the majesty of these towering trees standing in silent vigil through the march of centuries.
But there was one tree in particular that captured my interest. It was, in fact, two trees merged together. They've been dubbed " The Faithful Couple" (as pictured above).
The audio guide told us that this tree is an exceptional rarity since what usually happens is that a larger, stronger tree takes over a smaller one or simply kills off the smaller tree by blocking its sunlight and sucking up its water supply.
But in the case of "Faithful Couple," two trees of equal strength pushed against each other. And as they pushed, they grew into one another. However, this was no hostile takeover. It wasn't one tree defeating and/or swallowing up the other.
Each tree retained its individual "treeness." After forming their solid union–a fortress-like base–they continued upwards, growing stronger and taller. Finally, after many years of almost indistinguishable oneness, the two trees separated–just ever so slightly. They are still one, but they are also beautifully distinct.
This tree gives me hope. It represents what I hope my marriage can be.
I say this because I know I'm not an easy person to live with. I'm strong-willed and defiant. I question everything. I'm extremely emotionally sensitive. And I have, um, baggage. I'm quite a catch, yes? Heh.
Well, I'm probably a terrifying catch to someone who is not equally strong, someone who enjoys a challenge.
This is why I adore my husband. He is a worthy opponent–but not in a hostile, takeover way. More in an "iron sharpens iron" kind of way. He is, quite simply, a man I can respect.
Yes, we have hurt each other many times over the years. We've had our huge ups and our huge downs. Our love is nothing if not imperfect. But through all these years–15 already!–he has always won my unflagging admiration.
I don't write about the love of my life very often. My words seem foolish and inadequate in the face of this monumental force that has shaped the topography of my life. Whenever I start to write about him, I sound like a wildly clanging cymbal. Nothing I can say speaks to the mystery and sense of reverential awe I feel toward this man.
I also don't write about him very often because it seems unpopular to say that I don't know myself apart from him. But it's true. I have grown into and out of him, lost myself and found myself with him. We are one, but we are also beautifully distinct.
He gives me my space. He's protective without being controlling. He's masculine without being macho. He is my most trusted advisor, confidant and dearest friend. And I am his.
Bonus? I also think he's super hot! I just love everything about him. The way he talks, the way he smells, the way he sings off-tune.
I even love that he never smiles for the camera! He just squints into it like a little old man. Eeek! The sexiness!
OK, me and my exclamation points will cease and desist now.
Happy Father's Day, beloved old man. Thank you for growing up and growing old with me. xo.
