Melanie and I strolled across campus, both of us in our mid-thirties. While we didn’t look particularly old, we felt out of place next to the youthful crowd of 18 to 22-year-olds flaunting their spring wardrobes—shorts and sleeveless tops that hugged their sun-kissed skin. We ambled along at a slower pace, savoring the moment, while the younger students rushed by, seemingly preoccupied with their next adventure.
This marks Melanie’s final semester in college, where she has been an intermittent student for nearly five years. She attends the university where I work, primarily taking online classes until now, as she finishes her degree with a few last on-campus courses.
Thanks to a wonderful woman from our church, we have childcare covered, allowing Melanie to attend her classes. Twice a week, we meet in the quad for lunch, or sometimes she’ll drop by my office for a quick kiss. On this day, we fortuitously found ourselves walking together across campus, both heading in the same direction at the same time.
With Melanie’s classes and my full-time job, along with writing, our time together is scarce. When we do see each other, there’s usually a whirlwind of kids—asking for snacks, squabbling, or needing assistance with various “emergencies.” Alone time is a precious rarity.
We make it a point to go out at least once a month, and while we often succeed, it isn’t always guaranteed. However, with Melanie attending classes, we’ve recently been granted these fleeting moments of togetherness—sometimes just an hour, other times a mere 15 minutes—where we can walk hand in hand, chatting about our days.
Interestingly, when I envisioned married life, I never pictured it like this. My parents’ marriage wasn’t a model of success; they divorced when I was young. So, I never had a clear idea of what a healthy marriage should look like. Yet here we were, two thirty-somethings, over a decade into our marriage, enjoying a simple stroll on a college campus, cherishing those few moments of solitude.
This is the reality of marriage for those with young children. It’s two people deeply in love, working hard to support one another while juggling education, careers, and parenting. It’s chaotic and often requires searching online for solutions to problems that arise. There are disagreements about sleep, intimacy, and budgets until you finally find your rhythm. It’s a lot of contemplating sleep, yet rarely getting enough. But sometimes, it’s just a simple, sweet walk across campus, two people chatting like students who know each other well, and relishing the rare peace and quiet in their busy lives.
Our conversations vary; sometimes we discuss the kids, other times my job, or her classes. I offer her tips on navigating the university, and she reminds me to straighten my work shirt.
As college students pass by, we wonder if they view us as outdated or out of touch. Some of my younger colleagues suggest I “update” myself when I confess my ignorance of Snapchat or my outdated phone. In those moments, I long to share the beauty of the previous day’s walk with my wife—how it felt like a breath of fresh air, without any disruptions from the kids. But I realize they likely wouldn’t understand, just as I wouldn’t have at their age.
Perhaps this is the reason we appear so out of place on campus—because we fully grasp the value of these simple moments of togetherness. Our priorities have shifted from seeking the latest trends to cherishing our time together, which may explain why marriage can feel confining initially. It takes time to recognize what truly matters.
This isn’t to imply that marriage or parenting diminishes your standards; rather, it refines your priorities. You begin to appreciate your partner more deeply and seize every opportunity to connect, even if it’s just for a few moments of hand-holding and conversation.
As I dropped Melanie off at our minivan, parked between a hulking pickup and a sleek sports car, I leaned in for a kiss. “Thanks for the walk,” I said, infused with a hint of sarcasm, masking the truth that it was the highlight of my day.
“Anytime. I love you,” she replied with a smile.
I returned the sentiment, and we kissed again—perhaps longer than necessary, but thankfully, the kids weren’t around to interject. As we pulled apart, I noticed two young women observing us, likely bemused by our display of affection in the parking lot. I offered them a sheepish smile that seemed to convey, “One day, you’ll understand.”
For more insights into relationships, check out this related blog post on the simple pleasures of alone time. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, this site offers reliable syringes. Also, you can find great information on pregnancy and home insemination at Progyny.
In summary, the joys of being alone with your spouse are found in the simplicity of shared moments. As life becomes busier with children, these brief interludes become more precious. It’s a reminder that love thrives in the little things that often go unnoticed.
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