After Fifty Years

Ernie, my husband, and I are sitting in the living room listening to the heavy rain outside accompanied with bursts of thunder. We are dressed for a dinner out to celebrate my middle grandson’s 21^st birthday. My daughter and son-in-law are coming to pick us up. My son-in- law has a Jeep and my daughter assures me they know how to avoid the roads that might be flooded. All this is not reassuring to Ernie who is ever the cautious one. He has reason for concern since we had three phone alerts from the National Weather Service not to travel this evening unless absolutely necessary because of flooding.

I’m feeling the effects of restricted trips from home due to days of 90 degree weather and a resurgence of COVID in our area. I want to celebrate my grandson’s birthday and get a change of scenery. My husband is silent knowing my desires and is taking in our daughter’s reassurance.

We sit silently waiting for the call that my daughter and her husband feel comfortable driving to pick us up. The restaurant is holding our table. No rush. Does that mean that there are few expected diners?

Ernie and I have an unbalanced marital relationship. One of us is super careful and cautious, and the other can be careless and hurried. How we managed to live under one roof for over 50 years beats me. Well, maybe it doesn’t. (My husband proofs my posts so he will read this and disagree completely with what I’ll say next). I realize that I can be rambunctious and careless, so I have, most times, given way to his leanings. He’ll tell me that when he gives me advice he always follows up with the statement: I know you’ll do what you want to do anyway.  

We make it to the restaurant. The rain lightened up and, on the way, we didn’t see any flooding. The large dining area is bright, noisy, and crowded. A long table set for nine is ready for us right in front of a wall of glass sliding doors. The restaurant was once a garage.

All three grandsons, 16, 21 and 24, are wearing new suits. A week ago, they had COVID and couldn’t go to a Cincinnati family wedding. My daughter and son-in-law left them all behind in Raleigh as they recovered. Tonight, surprising their mother with their outfits, they look especially handsome and, to my eyes, too fast grown. The two older boys are accompanied by their girlfriends who have raised the bar on their dress code. too.  

At the table, our animated voices contribute to the hubbub surrounding us. Ernie is relaxed as we pass around the charcuterie board. The discussion focuses on the various beach houses we have rented over the years. The boys rate the best and the worst. This is the first year that we haven’t shared a summer house. I wrote about this in my post: Memories: the Annual Family Vacation. The talk then drifts toward the coming college year with new apartments and roommates.

We take many pictures at the table. The rain has stopped. After dinner we step outside into the warm, humid air to break into various groupings for more pictures.  

The oldest boys and their girlfriends leave to continue the celebration elsewhere. Ernie and I along with my daughter, son-in-law, and youngest grandson head for the Jeep parked a few blocks away. We walk under a black, starless sky. The streetlamps light our way. We pass few other walkers since this side of the city is just gaining attention. In the silence of the walk, I know this is another turning point for us, grandma and grandpa, off to our own lives now less intertwined with our grandchildren. Going forward, will Ernie and I disagree less about getting out in the world and take more chances? After 50 years I can only hope.