For me, it’s more about having time and space to reflect; to process what I’m experiencing and feeling. While I love writing, I am a bit of a romantic, and I do love gestures. So last night I got the kids, hubby and myself to make this memento.
Once lockdown is down, I’ll be taking this “bread” (yes, it’s made from dough) to the framers to have it put in a box frame. It’ll go on our gallery wall with our other hand and footprints from various years. Not only is April 2020 the month of lockdown, which is pretty dramatic, but it’s also our anniversary. Tomorrow we will have been married for 22 years. 22. Twenty-two. TWENTY-TWOOOOOOO.
I remember walking down the aisle (and contrary to what everyone else says, it feels like a lifetime ago, not just yesterday) thinking to myself, “It’s not too late to back out. I don’t have to go through with this. Right up until the priest pops me the question, I can still say no.” I truly wasn’t sure we’d make it a year, let alone a lifetime together.
Sadly, my reality is that almost all of the marriages on my side of the family were broken - separation, divorce, remarriage, co-habitations, remarriage to their first spouse; marriage to their ex-spouse’s sibling... In fact, as we left the church, one of my parents’ friends handed me an envelope with R5000 cash in it with the words: ‘This is for when you get divorced.’
But here we are, many, many bumps and 22 years later. Still married, still happy, with beautiful amazing kids, stable jobs, a house mostly paid off. We are seriously adulting!
[At this point I was interrupted by #1 who was gobsmacked that I have a blog... and this despite the fact that after the previous time we had that conversation I showed her the blog I wrote for her while I was pregnant and for a while after she was born.... sigh!]
So it strikes me afresh that blogging is the creation of a primary source, that what I write will be preserved (barring any electromagnetic pulses or shifts in the earth’s polarity, or the demise of all electricity generation on the planet, or the need to migrate this blog to a different format) indefinitely. Like getting married, that suddenly feels very overwhelming - that what I say here needs to be meaningful; it needs to count; it needs to share wisdom with the future generation.... I don’t feel particularly wise, or knowledgeable, or even humorous. I don’t feel controversial, or interesting at all. I’m just... well, me.
On a related topic, I was rather taken aback earlier today. Because of lockdown, I have been making a few (rather poor, I think) videos for my matrics. No picture-in-picture (otherwise known as the talking head), and about 20 mins long each (which if you know anything about making videos for social media, is WAAAAY too long) - just my voice, and my Apple Pencil interacting with the screen. But, because I’m generous, I decided to share them with my colleagues in other schools (and my own) on our provincial email group. I’ve uploaded them to YouTube and created a playlist for this topic, and that’s the link I shared. I was gob-smacked by the responses. I can’t tell you how many teachers replied to show their appreciation - for my rubbish videos! I mean, granted, they’re not as bad as the Telematics videos (*shiver*, #notasbadaswilliamsmith), but they’re not nearly as good as the ones made by professionals like Khan, or Bozeman, or The Amoeba Sisters, to name but a few. I’m not even sure my kids need them, given resources like that. But even my kids have said how much they appreciated them. Maybe it’s just the familiarity of my voice...
So maybe I’m selling myself short. Maybe there is something special about me after all. I guess you should ask the hubby - after all, he’s lived with me and put up with me for the past 22 years. (Did I mention that we’ve been married for TWENTY TWO years???)
Here’s to you, my love! You are my hero, and your kids’ hero. I thank God for you, and the past 22 years. (TWENTY TWO!)
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