My partner and I were nearing the end of our honeymoon, sharing a sweet kiss in the parking lot of a charming French bakery in Quebec City. We chose Canada to savor the fall foliage a little longer instead of retreating to a warmer destination. Being with him felt just as I imagined it would — absolutely blissful. We were brimming with excitement about our future, practically seeing stars. We were in sync about what we wanted, and the timing was perfect. I was still riding high on the thrill of being Mrs. Johnson, and I relished slipping “my spouse” into conversations instead of using his actual name. My spouse.
As we embraced, a woman strolled by, watching us with an amused smile. Her stunning gray hair was elegantly styled, and her red lipstick was striking. She wore jeans better than anyone I could recall. She walked hand-in-hand with a man who seemed to be talking, but her attention was squarely on us. I felt a warmth wash over me, but I couldn’t hold her gaze for long. I turned back to my partner, but the sensation lingered as if she were still watching me.
The following morning, I awoke early and tiptoed out, leaving my sleeping spouse behind to surprise him with freshly baked croissants and crepes. To my surprise, the woman from the previous night was seated outside, alone. Her hair and lipstick remained unchanged, but she now sported bifocals and was engrossed in writing. She looked up and greeted me with a soft smile, a stark contrast to the intense gaze she had given me the night before. “It was you I saw last night, kissing, right over here,” she said.
“Yes, I’m on my honeymoon,” I replied.
“Ah, oui, yes, the honeymoon. Sit,” she beckoned, patting the chair next to her.
“I’ve been married for 32 years. There’s only one honeymoon. Once it’s over and you start digging into life, that’s when you’ll discover what your relationship is truly made of.”
Of course, I had heard this before. I had friends who had been married a few years, some who were facing challenges, but not us. We were special, I thought. We had a plan. It would always feel like this.
“Your marriage will feel heavy,” she continued.
“No, it won’t. He’s everything to me. We adore each other!” I wanted to say, but instead, I listened. I didn’t want to hear it, but a part of me was curious. I could have walked away, but I found myself wanting to stay and hear more, and so I did.
Years later, I’ve come to grasp the truth in her words. There will be days when you won’t feel like talking to him, days when he’ll do the smallest thing and you’ll feel a surge of anger—not because of what he did, but because he did it again. And guess what? You’ll irritate him too. There will be times when you’ll struggle to see the person you married, and you’ll have to work hard to do more than just coexist. You’ll argue about how to raise your kids, disagree about finances, intimacy, and yes, even who forgot to take out the trash.
There will be moments when you know you’re hurting your relationship, yet you’ll do it anyway. You’ll learn how to hurt each other, and you’ll have days when you hope he’s ready to take the reins after a long, exhausting day. Sometimes he will; other times, he won’t, and that can feel so unfair. He might sense that you’re pulling at him as soon as he walks in, and he’ll want to escape.
You’ll miss the way things used to be, and it’ll be tough to discuss. Your marriage will have its highs and lows; at times, you’ll find yourself in a deep valley, questioning if this is what it’s supposed to be. You might even wonder if it’s the end.
But if you push through, like my partner and I have, if you learn to carry the heavy stuff together—and you still like each other after fighting for one another, for your kids, for your needs—then that’s what a marriage is.
I may not remember every word that wonderful woman shared with me in Quebec City, but I will always cherish her presence and the conversation we had. Although I didn’t give her words much weight at the time, something about her made me listen. I think about her often throughout my marriage and firmly believe our meeting was not a coincidence.
That brief encounter has had a lasting impact on me. And while I’m no marriage expert, I’ve been in one for over 14 years, and my partner and I have learned a few things. Sometimes, when marriage feels heavy, you can share the burden, and your relationship can carry the load together. And sometimes… well, it just can’t. Even the happiest of marriages can feel tough, and just like everything else in life, we’re all navigating our relationships the best way we know how.
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In summary, even the happiest marriages encounter challenges and moments of heaviness, but learning to navigate these rocky patches is what truly defines a relationship.