Saturday Morning

I am pretty sure, to a married couple without kids, there is nothing better than Saturday morning. You wake up around 8 or 9, and then someone cooks breakfast. By someone, in our scenario, of course, I mean Judge. This morning he got me iced coffee and cooked a bagel with bacon, egg and cheese. I know, I am a lucky girl.

We clean our house together. We listen to Pandora. There is nowhere we are supposed to be. We get to just enjoy being with our other half, with no uncomfortability of separation. This is it.

I am reading Anita Diamant Pitching my Tent this morning, and her words seem apt:

“Why marry? Because marriage publically affirms the possibility of moving toward another person without reservation. With that momentum, we are propelled toward the center of the heart, toward the center of the universe, and however

“Why marry? Because marriage publically affirms the possibility of moving toward another person without reservation. With that momentum, we are propelled toward the center of the heart, toward the center of the universe, and however far that gets us, is farther than we’d otherwise go alone.

Why marry?

Because every wedding enacts a personal connection to the universal story of the human hope for wholeness. Because by stepping into the hyperbarically charged space on the altar, the bridge and groom join in a dance that goes all the way back to the beginning of memory.

Getting married is an attempt at turning air into matter, transforming the ineffable workings of the heart into things that are “real;” the invitation, the dress, the ring. The word that constitute a wedding are magical incantations of the highest order. In the presence of witnesses and voiced by a vested authority, two people are pronounced a single unit.”

So much of our week, the single-unit-ness is challenged. But Saturday morning are a rebirth of connectedness. I feel peaceful and whole.

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