Sunday, 2 May 2010
Can our love build a bridge over this canyon?
This Friday, the night before Diver Dude's two week trip to the U.S, we went down to London Gatwick for some much needed R&R.
After a two hour drive in the company of our favorite comedy podcasters we checked in to our four star hotel and got ready for a romantic evening for two. We explored our surroundings and checked out the menus of the different restaurants available.We shared a bottle of Cabernet at the bar while giggling and making up possible stories for our fellow hotel dwellers. Our mood was up beat and giddy.
Later we sat down to enjoy a candle lit dinner at a french bistro. Conversation was smooth and we started talking about how we met, what we used to enjoy doing together. Diver Dude told me about his surprise when I fearlessly jumped up behind him on the fender of his Pit Bull chopper. I laughed at the memory of his license plate boldly exclaiming "NO WIFE". We talked about the endless rides we did around the island of Oahu. The sun, the hawaiian music and our rich social life.
Suddenly he says "I wouldn't mind going back one day". He continued saying how he'd consider moving back to Hawaii when he retires from his current career. How he'd golf all day and just enjoy the laid back life style.
In an instant that possible future hit me. Ten years from now. The two of us, back in Paradise. Him retired and me, at the age of 45, back in a place I gave up to follow the man of my dreams. A life I gave up in pursuit of the possibility of having a family. Back with the same man but without any of those dreams. Back where we started. Without children and with an expired biological clock. And my heart became so heavy. My vision blurred with tears.
Still with a smile on his face he looked up from his plate to ask me what I thought of that. I couldn't meet his eyes. I couldn't answer his simple question. He looked so hurt and puzzled when he discovered the change in my mood. But I couldn't explain. I couldn't tell him that the picture of this future he so optimistically painted sounded like a dark and scary place to me.
I struggled to swallow my fear and stoically ignored the giant pink elephant on the table and changed subject. I asked him about his trip. What he's looking forward to doing while in San Diego. Places he'll go eat at. Old friends he's going to see. His daughter and grandkids.
But in spite of my best effort, the rest of the evening that big pink intruder accompanied us in everything we did. It was a silent part of all our conversations. A big mountain between us in bed. It's presence made our good bye kiss seem cool and as Diver Dude walked away toward his gate it blocked my view.
If Diver Dude's decision to no longer pursue a family with me is final, I don't know how to get around it. If we don't share the same dreams anymore, how can we stay together? All the love in the world can't fix that. Can it?