Invisible Man and Fence, via Flickr by kridgett kreations
In our life as spouse, as lovers, as parents, we pass through these invisible, intangible membranes. From virgin to not. From single to married. From expecting to parenthood. From renter to homeowner. Back to renter. This weekend our marriage moved through another invisible fence that I am trying to understand, to feel fully. We had a "never event", an event that we never thought we would see or do in our marriage. My wife did it in a moment of exhaustion and frustration, but once done, she was on the other side of "I have never..." As they say in the movie Juno, "This ain't no Etch-a-Sketch, Home Skillet." This, like being pregnant, ain't a doodle that can be undid. Mostly, it made me realized how lonely marriage is, I think, for everybody. Here is this person I live with, am responsible to, must arrange schedules and plans around, who, in the end, is a complete and utter stranger to me. All I have to go on are these shreds of evidence from past actions and scattered conversation. All of this sounds horribly over the top and Film Noire. In the end, what happened is this: my wife lost her temper because the 4-year-old dropped the 1-year-old on her head; mom reacted and swatted the pre-schooler on the shoulder. Still. It was a wake up call for a woman who survived systematic and random abuse by her parents, who is keenly aware of children that are threatened in public, who has visceral flashbacks every time she hears the clink of my belt buckle as I undress for bed, who vowed to herself over and over: "I will never do that to my children."