Since I moved last year, I have seen the odd fox, in the park, at a distance. Until today, the most memorable of the sightings was across a field on a snowy day. All within view was white except the reddish smudge of the fox on a small hillock across the field. When I looked again, it was gone.
This morning's encounter left me with the impression of an animal with an impossibly large tail, running flat out, as if in terror. I wondered what had so startled it. Had the fox been nosing through someone's garbage? Perhaps that someone had come upon it suddenly, and the fox, too startled to pick a direction, simply ran. I wondered if the fox felt exposed on the suburban pavements and nicely mown lawns. Was it aware just how out of place it really was on that street?
Before long I had reached my destination and was swimming back and forth in a corner of the local pool. To occupy myself, I took to remembering what a typical day was like four or five years ago when my regular swimming was at its height. From my small downstairs apartment and my cat to the lovely large local pool, to the delicious Stoneyfield drinkable yoghurt, to the drive to work and a typical day at the music shop. The trip down memory lane filled out my time in the pool. I thought about the drive home from my old job as I dried off and headed home. It wasn't until I was back in the fresh air that I remembered the fox and saw the connection.
About a year ago, I was announcing my engagement. One friend and reader of this blog sent me a congratulatory email. He said he looked forward to reading my reflections on love and marriage. I am sorry to say, that I believe his anticipation must have been disappointed. I have written little on these subjects. Not being sure what it was wise to say and what might be betraying trust, I have limited my observations to the most mundane. For this reason entries in this blog have been thinner for the last six months or so than perhaps they have ever been before.
Today is our six month anniversary. It hardly seems possible. The learning curve of marriage has exceeded all my expectations. All my degrees, education, knowledge, intellect, speculation, faith, observation, all I have ever done to prepare myself for this long-desired destiny did not and never could have prepared me for the reality of what this relationship actually is. Marry if you must. Marry if you wish, but if you marry know this: to succeed takes work, pain, humility, patience, forbearance and a multitude of other virtues. Sometimes I wonder if I would have had the courage to go through with it if I had known, but I'm glad I didn't know. I would not trade the rewards or comforts, the beauty and confidence, the joy and laughter of this experience for anything else. For someone who had trouble taking prolonged human contact for more than 8 hours at a time, I now find that eight hours alone is more than enough time.
Along with my marriage came the move from Wales to England. It also solidified my choice to remain in the UK. Living with a Brit has also highlighted the depth to which 26 formative years in the USA have left their mark on me. Few days go by without some comment, brief conversation, semantic misunderstanding, tv program or radio news item subtly reminding me that I was not formed by the country in which I now reside. There are times when I find this exhausting. I can somehow never escape from the consciousness that I am slightly different, almost as if, although my appearance is not noticeably different from those around me, the colour of my inner self is slightly darker: burgundy instead of cherry red. The same, but not quite the same.
When I saw that fox run by this morning, for a fleeting moment, I identified with it. You know you do not belong on this residential street, I thought, so you run away. You are right to run. Sometimes I too feel that I do not quite belong here. Sometimes I too would like to run. I know it is only an impression. This is my life now, but sometimes I wish I could run.
When I began the post-swim walk home, I saw my stroll down memory lane for what it was: escape. There were things about that time in my life that I enjoyed: having enough money (didn't enjoy this nearly enough at the time), having a lovely big pool with private lanes to swim in, good food, a decent job, pleasant people to see on a daily basis, a good church, a good seminary, a nice place to live, a reliable car, autonomy. But there was another side to that life: frustration, loneliness and depression were my constant companions. I didn't enjoy the good things nearly enough. I longed for the future.
Now here I am in the future. I like to remember the past, but remembering the past reminds me more of all I have gained than all I have lost. Let the fox do the running, I love my life. I may be a stranger, but in my own home I am a wife. I may be a foreigner in the eyes of many, but in the eyes of a precious few, I am friend. I may be overwhelmed at times by all there is to be, to do, to learn, to grow into, but I am no longer stunted, trapped, enclosed and prevented from growing. So farewell the fox, farewell the memories. My eyes are looking forward.
