I was chatting with an old friend, Jamie, when she nonchalantly mentioned, “My new single mom lifestyle.” Sitting next to my wife, Sarah, on a plane, I felt a pang of curiosity. We were on our way home after celebrating our 11th wedding anniversary on a beautiful Caribbean cruise.
I quickly shot a text back, hoping to hear more before the flight attendants requested we silence our phones. “Wait… Single mom lifestyle? What happened?” Jamie responded, “Well, I guess Mike and I divorced last May.”
It was now November.
I glanced at Sarah, who was gazing out of the window. “Apparently, Jamie and Mike split up in May,” I said. “How did I not know?”
Sarah raised her eyebrows slightly, surprised but not shocked. “That’s unfortunate,” she replied before returning her gaze to the dark sky outside.
Jamie was more of my friend than Sarah’s. We met in college and had been friends for about eight years. During the early days of my marriage, I often turned to Jamie for advice. She had two kids and a few more years of marriage experience, and her insights always resonated with me. She helped me navigate the challenges of new parenthood and the inevitable arguments that come with sleepless nights.
“What led to the divorce?” I texted back. “Did you just grow apart?”
Finding out that a couple I admired fell apart was unsettling. I realized how little I had spoken to Jamie in recent years. Most of our communication happened through text messages and social media. From my perspective, everything seemed fine in her marriage; I saw pictures of them enjoying family outings and vacations together. I had assumed their relationship was strong, but I was mistaken. This revelation made me worry about my own marriage.
Divorce is a topic I often ponder, not because I desire one, but because I want to steer clear of it. My mother has been married three times, and my father passed away during his third marriage. I know too well the toll a divorce can take on children. While some parents navigate it gracefully, my experience was different—filled with conflict, hostility, and emotional turmoil.
The most frightening aspect of my parents’ divorce is that I don’t fully grasp why it happened. I was just nine years old when it occurred, so my memories are a muddled mix of poor choices and unresolved issues. I didn’t witness a single catalyst; instead, it was a series of small neglects and arguments that snowballed into infidelity and ultimately, divorce. This background leaves me with an ever-present anxiety about my own marriage, feeling like divorce looms as a possible outcome.
This isn’t to say I don’t love Sarah; I do, deeply. The thought of separation terrifies me. And when I read Jamie’s next message, my heart sank further: “It’s been happening for 16 years. It wasn’t a single event; it was a gradual process. Neither of us realized just how lonely or distant we had become…”
Just then, the flight attendant asked us to switch our phones to airplane mode. I shared the conversation with Sarah, expressing my fears. “This makes divorce sound like weeds overtaking a garden. I wonder if something similar happened with my parents.”
Sarah considered my words as the plane began taxiing down the runway. “We just got back from a cruise,” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied. “I was with you.”
“Before the trip, I was overwhelmed with school and parenting. But now, I feel rejuvenated.”
I reflected on her words as we took off, our voices raised over the roar of the engines. “We can’t just escape on vacations whenever things get tough,” I countered. “That’s not practical.”
This was our biggest getaway in over a decade.
“I understand that,” Sarah replied. “But I think it’s about maintenance.” She explained that if our marriage is like a garden, we need to regularly tend to it by pulling out the weeds. We must prioritize our relationship and show love each day. “You text me ‘I love you’ almost every day,” she noted. “I don’t think your parents did that.”
“So, you’re saying it’s the little things that matter?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Yes, I believe that’s true. You know I love you.”
“Of course,” I said, smiling.
“And I know you love me,” she affirmed.
Her reassurance didn’t completely alleviate my worries, especially for Jamie and Mike. But it did remind me of the love I have for Sarah and the power of the small, meaningful gestures in our relationship.
I leaned in and kissed her gently. “See,” Sarah said with a smile. “We just pulled some weeds.”
In relationships, just as in gardening, regular care and attention can keep things flourishing.
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Summary:
The article reflects on the importance of maintaining a strong marriage, drawing from a personal experience of learning about a friend’s divorce. It highlights the need for open communication, small acts of love, and regular attention to keep a relationship thriving, likening marriage to a garden that requires consistent care to prevent weeds from taking over.