Sunday, January 6, 2008

My Ordinary Extraordinary Boy

Just a day, just an ordinary day, just trying to get by.
Just a boy, just an ordinary boy,
But he was looking to the sky.
And as he asked if I would come along
I started to realize that everyday he finds just what he's looking for,
Like a shooting star he shines.

He said take my hand, live while you can
Don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand

And as he spoke, he spoke ordinary words although they did not feel
For I felt what I had not felt before, and you'd swear those words could heal.
And as I looked up into those eyes his vision borrows mine.
And I know he's no stranger,
For I feel I've held him for all of time.

And he said take my hand, live while you can
Don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand
In the palm of your hand.

Please come with me, see what I see.
Touch the stars for time will not flee.
Time will not flee. Can you see?

Just a dream, just an ordinary dream, as I wake in bed
And the boy, that ordinary boy...or was it all in my head?
Did he asked if I would come along? It all seemed so real.
But as I looked to the door, I saw that boy standing there with a deal.

And he said take my hand, live while you can,
Don't you see all your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand
In the palm of your hand, in the palm of your hand.

Just a day, just an ordinary day just trying to get by.
Just a boy, just an ordinary boy.
But he was looking to the sky.


-Ordinary Day, Vanessa Carlton

I awoke in his arms this morning, as I do most mornings, as I have most mornings for the last nine years or so. We don't generally sleep that way; we spoon at night, then separate, finding our individual comfort spots. Somehow, in our combined morning haze, we rejoin, me finding a spot for my head in the crook of his shoulder, possibly throwing my top leg over his bottom one. Sometimes we spoon, my back to his chest, our legs aligned top to bottom, his arms wrapped around mine. No matter what position we're in, our feet always touch.

I've said before, it was his encouragement to follow my dream of law school, it is his financial support of our family that's making it possible for me to be here. The wonderful thing is that I feel a certain obligation to do well and make this experience worthwhile, but I don't feel beholden. He's never once said "you owe me" something for this. Our family's life isn't an "if/then" statement - it does feel lopsided on occasion because I've asked more of him than he has of me. However, he knows that I would support him and follow him if he asked.

Our marriage, from day one, has been based on partnership and teamwork. This is quite possibly one of the hardest concepts for me to wrap my head around; one of the most difficult things for me to remember on a daily basis. See, I'm a very selfish person- I want to do my own thing, and so does he. It's a constant struggle.

We have gone through hell and back, the boy and I, and there have been times when I didn't know whether I'd wake up next to him ever again. The hard part of marriage is deciding on a daily basis that you love the person you're married to enough to do whatever it takes to make sure you wake up in each other's arms the next morning, and get through another ordinary day.

For me, the ordinary days, the every day in-and-out, is what makes the extraordinary possible. I don't know how other people love, I don't know what love feels like to anyone else.

When I wake in his arms, when we reach for each other in the morning silence of our bedroom, when the first thing I do after opening my eyes is look at his face and reach over to kiss him, when the first thoughts in my head are thanks to God for giving me this man, when my first words are "Morning, boo..."

That's love.

1 comment:

Jen said...

This totally made me smile today.

You know...not to sound like a OBD, but...this is like a page out of my life as well.

The hubby and I struggle with the you, me, us thing (I guess everyone does) -- exploring our own separate hobbies and things when needed, but in the end, it always comes back to us. It's that solidarity that I think allows us to become such great partners and even better parents.