That Palmtree Is Older Than My Marriage

That Palm Tree Is Older Than My Marriage…

As I am dusting the bookshelves in my living room, looking out through the balcony door, I spot the potted palm tree that’s been taking up the same space outside for almost twenty-five years. I can’t believe it; it’s still alive and well. My husband had bought that plant before we even met. Just a loosey goosey California bachelor, out on the town, buying his first plant…at Ikea of all places, the obvious choice when you’re in the mood for some Swedish meatballs and an exotic plant.

I don’t think he has paid that palm tree any attention ever since.

Soon after his purchase, we began dating. I love gardening; he doesn’t, et voila, the palm tree fell into my department of expertise. That’s how it goes, doesn’t it? Two people come together with their strengths and preferences, their weaknesses and dislikes, and they form an alliance, sealing it legally with heartfelt vows and an official stamp.

When my husband and I got married, (Las Vegas, thank you very much), we didn’t exchange rings. We didn’t shop for any; both of us are not big jewelry wearers, and somehow, the ring part had escaped our planning efforts. Instead, I borrowed a pair of wedding rings from my wardrobe stylist friend’s jewelry kit, and we slipped those on during the ceremony. Once we were married, I put them into a little Ziplock bag and returned them later that week. That was that.

But what is a marriage?

Marriage is still at the heart of our society, injecting stability, and partnership into our system. It’s branded as a cornerstone meant to strengthen families, create a sense of belonging, and promises a safe haven for individuals to share their lives. Whether you are hetero, homo, bi, or still figuring it all out, to find “your other” is a primal instinct and strong drive for us humans. But we are not alone in this endeavor. Even in the plant and animal kingdom, souls are intrinsically drawn to each other, albeit mainly for survival purposes. Swans, penguins, and albatrosses mate for life. Even sharks!

They say marriage is fifty-fifty. I call that bogus. People who have been married for a long time know it’s never fifty-fifty. It varies, and often it’s more like seventy-thirty or sixty-forty.  Someone always works very hard to keep things rolling (like keeping a plant alive), and someone else just sails along for the ride.

I am looking at you, failed green-thumbs!

But how can that palm tree still be alive? My better half wonders about that when he walks by, but the answer is simple, really.  I take care of it. Water, fresh dirt, fertilizer, gently pruning, repotting. You name it. I even talk to it! A lot of work and effort goes into keeping that plant from dying, let alone thriving. Honestly, throw in a bunch of dumb luck while you’re at it, because you can do all those nurturing things, and a plant will still die…or a marriage crumble.

A lot of people have advice on marriage: make sure to communicate, trust each other, laugh a lot, have sex, go on date nights (maybe reverse that order), and present a united front for your kids. Let me tell you, nothing throws a happy marriage a curve ball like having kids. Becoming parents is such a huge shift in a marriage dynamic that I tackle that one topic in a separate essay, called “Babes, bottles, and butts.”

But pertaining to this piece of writing, I think the single most important riddle to answer when you are in a marriage is this: How do I remain an independent individual while I am intertwined with another?

Can both these constructs co-exist in the very same timeline?

I have a friend who has been married for over twenty years. She and her husband swear by taking vacations from each other, as they travel multiple times each year…alone. My friend is positively giddy with excitement whenever she gets to play the “merry widow” part in her marriage. She invites her married girlfriends to come over for slumber parties. “No men here” is their battle cry, and they are as hyper as a bunch of girls in middle school.

That same friend also misses her husband when he’s gone and feels happy and excited when he returns home. I guess the adage “absence makes the heart grow fonder” is, in fact, true.

Another friend of mine just recently got hit by Cupid's bow. She has been dating her current boyfriend for only two months. I know they will get married, even if they don’t know it yet. They are so fond of each other and they respect each other, it’s incredibly heartwarming. They are both middle-aged, ergo beyond the puppy, googley eyes stage, but they definitely float on cloud nine.  

They asked my husband and I what we think makes a good marriage. We shared that staying together as a longtime married couple is not easy.   We both suffer from unheard requests, overlooked moments, botched romantic opportunities. I often wonder if my husband actually knows who I am. What are my favorite colors, movies, books…flowers? He has no clue. On my birthday, every year, he hands me a dozen red roses. It’s a lovely gift, but I have told him on countless occasions that the classic red ones are not my favorite. The information does not stick; behavior does not get modified. I could sing it from the rooftops, send smoke signals, or wear a slogan on my t-shirt. He sees red roses as a romantic gesture, and that is that. 

Still, we go on, content to be married but also eager to take space when needed.   It’s a delicate dance.

In a marriage, your partner might not do the things you want them to do. He or she will not always listen or respond the way you want them to or, even worse, notice all the work you are putting in (I see you 75%ers), but they are still showing up every day in their own ways. Making coffee, paying bills, taking out the trash, or changing light bulbs, whatever acts of service are in their wheelhouse. It’s not often glamorous, and it sure would be nice to get a purple bouquet of flowers once in a while, but these solid, everyday contributions are equally important to a functioning marriage.

While my husband sometimes misses a clue or two (he is human after all), the palm tree never lets me down.  I am here to nourish it, and it pays me back with growth and beauty.  It looks gorgeous with its luscious green feathery branches. Hummingbirds return to build their nest in it every spring. Life supporting life; it’s a wonderous process, and I am thrilled to be part of it.

To be honest, it is kind of cute to see how stumped my husband gets by the longevity of our palm tree. 

“That darn' tree still alive? It’s a miracle!”

“Sure is, honey, sure is.”