I need to tell you about the mango, but first I need to tell you about this guy I met at a 12-hour contra dance in the mountains of North Carolina years ago. We talked a lot, he seemed nice, we exchanged emails. We lived four hours apart, though, and I didn’t think it was likely I would see him again.
But a few weeks later, I did. I met up with him at a contra dance in Asheville. We danced, we talked, and he said he had a good friend in Raleigh, and he would plan a visit there soon and drop by Chapel Hill, where I was living at the time, to see me. Okay, I said, but I actually thought, yeah right, not because I didn’t want to see him but because guys had broken promises to me before.
When we said goodbye in Asheville, I thought how nice it was that though we would never see each other again, we’d had a good time and would always have the happy memory of that dance.
Then something strange happened: he planned a visit to Chapel Hill and Raleigh. A few days before he arrived, I bought some mangos, which are one of my all-time favorite fruits. I can’t remember why I even mentioned these to him by phone, but somehow I did—maybe because he had never tried them, or maybe because he liked them, too—and I promised to save one that we would share when he visited.
And we did—share it, that is, along with many more trips to see each other until finally one day Preston and I said I do by Boone Lake.
That was thirteen years ago.
The second thing I need to tell you is that part of me was scared I could not make a marriage work. I’d been married once before, for three years, and though I’d had a belief up until I got married the first time that I’d never get divorced, I had not adequately factored in the part about how not getting divorced was not just up to me—both parties had to want to stay married. I had not factored in that someone could love me but decide they weren’t in love with me anymore. I had not factored in that someone could decide he wanted to be free.
Ruh-roh.
After my divorce, I wondered if I would ever have a marriage that would last. So when Preston and I passed the three-year mark, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Another decade has passed since then. I still ask couples what their secret is to a successful marriage, as if they might tell me something I have missed. But the truth is, I think I know what makes us work.
Our lives are full of daily compromises. Oh, we each gave up big things in order to be together, but now our compromises are so small an outsider might not notice them—we might not notice them, as we have grown used to this bending and meeting somewhere in the middle—sometimes closer to his side, sometimes to mine. He needs solitude; I need interaction: we map our days so we each get what we need. He needs to run an errand here; I need to run an errand there: we go together to both places, even though it will take longer.
Maybe why it works for us is that we each look out not just for our own needs but for those of the other person.
Which brings me to the third thing I need to tell you about: another mango. There was one in the fridge yesterday that he did not even know about—he rarely opens the crisper drawer, while I daily open and close it, rummaging for my favorite fruits. I took out the mango and sliced it in half, and I started to eat it—it was perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy. I finished that half and looked down at the other.
I wanted it. I wanted all of it. He wouldn’t even know if I ate it all.
I pulled out a plate, set the half-mango on it, and left him a note for when he came home at lunch to take care of the dog because I was busy teaching a writing workshop.
A mango is such a small thing, but thirteen years into this marriage, I know that love never is.
Photo by Avinash Kumar
Upcoming (and NEW!) Seminars
Prompt-Writing like Speed-Dating: Prompt, Write, Next, Prompt, Write, Next (NEW!)
Tuesday, August 31, 11:30 a.m.-1 p.m. EST
If you’ve attended Let’s Write Together with me, you’ll recognize the format: I’ll share a piece of writing to inspire you, offer a prompt related to it, and you will have time to write. Except I’ll be offering a new piece and prompt every 10-12 minutes during this 1.5-hour workshop. Think of it like speed dating—there’s another piece and prompt ready to inspire you just around the corner, with time for sharing at the end. This workshop is in partnership with Press 53. Cost: $30. Register here.
The Nuts and Bolts of Submitting Your Work to Literary Magazines (NEW!)
Wednesday, September 1, 11:30 a.m.-1 p.m. EST
Are you wanting to submit your work to literary journals but feeling overwhelmed and don’t know where to start? In this seminar, we’ll talk about how to research literary magazines, how to submit your work, how to track your submissions (for free), and what to put in (and leave out of) your bio statement. (Please note that this seminar is not focused on finding an agent or book publisher.) I’d also really like to hear from you ahead of time with any questions about submitting your work to lit mags that you hope will be covered in this seminar, and I’ll do my best to prepare answers. This seminar is in partnership with Press 53. Cost $30. Register here.
Let’s Write Together!
Tuesdays at noon EST: August 17, 24; September 7, 14, 21, 28
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me for any (or all) of these online one-hour sessions on Tuesdays at noon EST. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. These workshops are in partnership with Press 53. Cost: $10/session. Register for any of them here.
