two years

We spent three glorious fall days in Portland, Maine last October, a tag-on anniversary celebration after spending a few days in Boston visiting grad schools.

And, two years of marriage! (Two years and four months, now.) I tried to write about marriage so much in our first six months being married before realizing I had absolutely nothing to say. It was all so new, so unknown, and there was so much to process and try to understand about myself, much less another human being. I just didn't know how to think about it yet. When people asked me how married life was going, I found I just told them made-up things to assuage their questioning.

But, maybe, now – I'd like to think – I'm coming into it. I know I can say this, at least: marriage has been a safe place for me to grow in confidence in myself, and for that I am grateful. I think that is what marriage should be – not your everything, but the most safe kind of love, along with being a marked reminder of dying to yourself anew every day. I think of this line from Auden: "Afraid of our living task, the dying / which the coming day will ask." Marriage is a risk, a stepping boldly into that fear, into that risk of dying to self, even still as you grow more deeply into yourself. (Of course, there are plenty of ways to do that besides marriage – but it is one way.)

That's my two cents for two years, anyhow. Mainly, I like being married to Austin.

[all 35mm from Portland and some surrounding islands]