Facing My Mortality

I'm 25 years old. I've lost two grandparents and known many other people who passed away -- strokes, accidents, diseases which won in less time than expected. But I've never considered my own mortality. Why would I? I'm young and healthy and I live in the first world, so even though I'm basically below the poverty line, I'm still vaccinated to the hilt. There's not an awful lot I have to worry about dying from.

I have promised another human being that one of us will be the one to bury the other.

This is the closest I've ever come to really understanding that one day I will die.

On Married Life: Month 7

Last week, I spent the whole day of our 7 month wedding anniversary cleaning the house. That's not so much a commentary on marriage as it is a commentary on why I didn't remember to blog that day, even though I intended to. 

The report from Month 7 is as follows: Marriage is not an adventure (yet). Marriage is a conduit for other adventures. 

Marriage is the reason that the final walls between my spouse and I are crumbling, leading us to even greater personal discovery. I already knew him; I'm learning who I am in the presence of another. That's a helluva adventure. 

Marriage is also the reason for more tangible adventures. Take, for example, my first visit to a theme park in 15 years and my first ride on a roller coaster ever. It didn't even matter that I puked my guts out. I was still with the person I most wanted to be with. I had fun.

Marriage is the reason I get to feel completely safe and completely independent at the same time. It's so much better than people said it would be.