San Francisco, California
I love the noble calla lilies that grace our garden this time of year. Nothing is more stunning. But still, the calla lilies are not perfect. 1) The flower's weight forces its stalk to buckle, so most spend their best days on the ground; 2) those that manage to stand in place are traps for every speck of dust (and worse) that happens to float by; 3) finally, the calla lily’s beauty is impossible to capture on camera, especially while still clean. The sheer whiteness against dark backgrounds fools the camera’s eye and blunts the translucence of the flower’s skin, the grace of its arc. These two caught here in shadow will have to do. Come visit us next April to enjoy them at their best.
The first thirteen years of our relationship were enabled by airplanes and Skype, living, as we did, 1,000 miles apart. We cherished our freedom and were bound by jobs, kids and grandkids to stay mostly where we were. Besides, we thought we’d reached an age when marriage didn’t matter anymore, and what golden years we had ahead of us could be shared on a part time basis. Now, not a day goes by when one of us doesn’t look up and remark on how lucky we are to have decided a year and a half ago to marry and live together. What grace. What timing.
Marriages are never perfect. These complicated partnerships require attention and work even in the best of times, and this crisis obviously adds stress and complexities most of us prepared for only theoretically. “In sickness and in health,” we said. Is this what we imagined? Yesterday morning, the San Francisco Chronicle featured friends of ours, Aimee Le Duc and Dana Younkin, in an article about surviving marriage during the Corona Virus. https://www.sfchronicle.com/bayarea/article/Marriage-during-shelter-in-place-It-s-like-15232603.php?
“Today is your dark day in the forest,” Aimee says to Dana about trading off times when each allows the other to mope. They have a daughter and they have jobs - or did - which makes it so much harder than the challenge I have in photographing calla lilies in the shadows of my garden. Hats off to them for finding their way through.
And this: their story reminds me to be grateful. This morning is another day, the sun is bright, and I have yet another chance to thank John for listening when those dark days come, and for sitting everyday beside me.