Thanks, Nora

I woke up today having one of the highly feeling types of days that generally lead me to languish in tears and self-pity. That didn’t happen. Instead, I brewed a couple mugs of the good stuff, and went blog hopping — checking in on some of my favorite reads. I’ve been remiss in my blog hops, or any pleasure reading in general amidst the throes of academia and general motivation anemia. I digress. In my travels– which ironically started with my favorite wedding blog, and ended at a fresh divorce post, I stumbled across this quote from the dearly departed, no-stranger-to-heartache, Nora Ephron:

And then the dreams break into a million tiny pieces. The dream dies. Which leaves you with a choice: you can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream.” ― Nora Ephron

Up until now, I’d been reticent to write about my love life goings on. The abrupt–or not (fodder for another time)– end of my 20 year marriage, closely followed by an intense, rapid-fire romance left me feeling doubtful of my ability to make sound life choices. I vacillated between wallowing in the acceptance of a harsh reality and valiantly daring to “dream another dream”. In the end, I chose the latter and embraced the idea, that foolish as it may all seem,  I’m more courageous than complacent, and settling for reality was simply not an option for me–not in this lifetime.

In less than sixty days, I will marry my Prince of Disks; a beautiful human I once so rightfully loved at the wrong time. A fool like me, he dared to patiently build this dream for two at a time (a great length of time, across a great distance) when I no longer would or could. I can’t think of a quality more befitting a life partner, or a partner more befitting my new life. Thank you, Michael for trusting in dreams, and a great big, posthumous thanks to you Nora, for eloquently stating and boldly living ’em.

 

Rest in peace…

 

Comments

  1. Oh, well, this makes me feel hopeful. If you can survive after a marriage that broke down after 20 years, I suppose I’ll be alright.

    It really doesn’t feel like it right now, though.

Speak Your Mind

*