Annus Mirabilis
So, it was a year ago today that I got an email from a colleague asking me if I would have dinner with him to discuss his flexible spending account for the coming year; the deadline for our H.R. office was coming up in just a few days, and he needed to decide what to do about his form. And that, my friends, is the beginning of my life's great love story. ;)
The flexible spending account was, my friends all agreed, a flimsy excuse, but as Sam points out, it worked marvelously, transparent or not, so who cares? We got together that same night for dinner, and when he dropped me off, he came in to chat. At the end, he got what he says he was sure was "the friendship hug of dismissal."
But as things unfolded, it felt like when someone puts a hand out, asks you to dance, and gently pulls you toward him, and you are happy to go. Or like the slight suspense--perhaps it is actually the relief of suspense?--that you feel when you turn a combination lock slowly toward the last . . . right . . . number . . . and as the tumblers click into place with that special tension, you know it's about to open in your hand.
We were married within six months. I realize now that it probably seemed imprudently fast--but it didn't feel fast. It felt like it was making things right; somehow it felt like we weren't supposed to not be married anymore. And so that's how we got here: one year later, married six months and a few weeks, and shocked to find ourselves six months pregnant (that part did feel fast--there's no getting around that).
But mostly, I think what we are these days is this: humbled, astonished, blessed by the grace of this past year.
The flexible spending account was, my friends all agreed, a flimsy excuse, but as Sam points out, it worked marvelously, transparent or not, so who cares? We got together that same night for dinner, and when he dropped me off, he came in to chat. At the end, he got what he says he was sure was "the friendship hug of dismissal."
But as things unfolded, it felt like when someone puts a hand out, asks you to dance, and gently pulls you toward him, and you are happy to go. Or like the slight suspense--perhaps it is actually the relief of suspense?--that you feel when you turn a combination lock slowly toward the last . . . right . . . number . . . and as the tumblers click into place with that special tension, you know it's about to open in your hand.
We were married within six months. I realize now that it probably seemed imprudently fast--but it didn't feel fast. It felt like it was making things right; somehow it felt like we weren't supposed to not be married anymore. And so that's how we got here: one year later, married six months and a few weeks, and shocked to find ourselves six months pregnant (that part did feel fast--there's no getting around that).
But mostly, I think what we are these days is this: humbled, astonished, blessed by the grace of this past year.
posted by Tara | 8:09 AM
6 Comments:
I didn't realize the sham excuse was the flexible spending account. I must tease Sam mercilessly about it the next time we meet.
Um...yes, six months to find a spouse was fast, considering that you will buy two or three of the same article of clothing to figure out which color you like best...and that ordering at a restaurant with you used to take pretty long (unless it is a favorite restaurant that you've been to many times before and ordered the philly cheese steak or fried shrimp before). Maybe things have changed for you and you are lightnin' fast now in decisions? :)
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! I love your comparisons, as well as the story itself.
But my favorite part about this post, I must admit, is the brilliant title. I'm assuming you took your inspiration from the queen herself? :)
Jules: Yes, oh yes.
Juli: Ordering in a restaurant still takes a while. Getting married was a bigger decision, but an easier one. ;)
Kate: What queen?
Hm. Well, my bad. The queen turned your phrase to make her own ... and I thought hers came first ... very unliterary of me. Apologies!
Although cited by the Oxford English Dictionary as being in use as early as 1985, Queen Elizabeth II brought the phrase to prominence, in a speech to the Guildhall on 24 November 1992, marking the 40th anniversary of her Accession, in which she described the closing year as an "annus horribilis".
"1992 is not a year on which I shall look back with undiluted pleasure. In the words of one of my more sympathetic correspondents, it has turned out to be an Annus Horribilis."
The phrase may allude to John Dryden's poem "Annus Mirabilis" about the events of 1666. The Queen's "sympathetic correspondent" was later revealed to be her former Assistant Private Secretary, Sir Edward Ford.
Ah, very interesting!
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