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Paperwork: Wedding days are memorable but it takes a while to be truly married · Illinois Valley - Shaw Local

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  Paperwork, wedding days are memorable, but it takes a while to be
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  truly married. This article is being read by
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  an automated voice, brought to you by Everlet. October invites a changing
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  season with a splatter of color, and for me one special day.
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  It's always the perfect time to reflect. More so this year because
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  it's been forty five years so we can speak to that romantic
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  hope of growing old together. C Cindy would likely recall many adventures
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  we've had together. She planned them all. She has always been my
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  navigator. She'd surely pull stories from Her detailed memory, including that upper
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  level restaurant we discovered in Paris and the surprisingly perfect pizza we
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  devoured. But I'd linger over many little things that spotted our days.
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  Her socks stuck between couch cushions, earrings on any available flat surface,
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  her cereal bowls in the sink, waiting for me to rinse as
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  out the lactose free, two percent reduced fat milk, and the three
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  Cheerios firmly attached to the side. Her. Credit cards spilled across the
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  dining room table after a rapid search for who knows what. There
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  are also the slivers of silver and grey sliding into her hair.
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  Frustrating at first for her, fascinating to me, the beauty of another
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  changing season. Her love of family, crying with every toast at any
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  gathering, her energy, passion, and need to be moving, allowing time, however,
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  for floating on water, staring at campfires, and curling into a really
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  good nap. Don't be fooled, I don't list such things as complaints,
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  nuisances, or criticisms. Yes, I joke about some of them more than
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  I should, just as she jabs at my messy den and other
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  salty habits. But I would miss it, all of it. All this
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  and much more stand out as her footprints in the sands of
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  time. They are flashes in a parade of memories attached to one
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  person. They are tiny pieces of that puzzle I married forty years
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  ago on October eleventh, nineteen eighty-six. I can say that forty years
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  ago we were married, officially. But I
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  know now that marriage happens much later. There's a line I crossed
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  when our connection had become a weld. And that took time to
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  realize being together is natural and forever painful if broken. I wanted
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  to share on our anniversary a poem about those moments when someone
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  feels an eternal connection to another. It comes from Winter Morning Walks
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  by Ted Cooser, who served as Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to
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  the Library of Congress from 2004 to 2006. On a wintry day
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  he wrote this one titled January fourth, Four Below Zero My wife
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  took an apple to work this morning, hurriedly picking it up and
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  out of a plastic bag on the kitchen counter, and though she
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  has been gone an hour. The open bag still holds in a
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  swirl the graceful turn of her wrist, A fountain lifting and now
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  I can see That the air by the closet door keeps the
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  bell like hollow she made spinning into her winter coat. While pushing
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  her apple through a sleeve and back out into The ordinary. Yes,
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  I feel the depth of our connection, because I could see her
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  moving through the room when she is gone, and I still yearn
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  for her to return. Lonnie Kane, retired managing editor of The Times
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  in Ottawa, also was a reporter for the Herald News and Joliet
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  in the 1970s. His paperwork email is Lonniejkane at gmail.com or mail
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  the News Tribune 426 2nd Street, LaSalle, Illinois 61301.