My spouse – I have to stop calling him that – so I’ll use his real name (with permission of course). His name is Ralph. We are “R-Squared” as my name is Rita.
At any rate, tonight Ralph and I were driving over to two meetings. I was dropping him off and going to mine. During the ride (in the rain) we were having a passionate (as in yelling at each other) discussion over my new windshield wipers. In light rain they make a grating noise like fingernails running down a blackboard only louder like, skraawcch – pause – skraawcch – pause – skraawch! It drives me mad I tell you, absolutely mad. For weeks I’ve been asking Ralph to return them to the store for an adjustment or a new set or SOMETHING to make the noise go away.
My Ralph, dear sweet stubborn Ralph, swears over his mother’s grave that the windshield wipers are just fine. It’s how they make them sweetheart. NO! NO! NO! I declare there must be some way to make that skraawcch go away. I’ll take them back to the store myself. Go ahead, says he, it won’t make any difference. And on and on it went for some twenty minutes our passion rising a decibel or so until we reached his destination. Then, all sweetness and light we kissed each other good-bye and I was on my way to my meeting. Passion, I thought. We have a very passionate marriage.
At home later that evening Ralph made us both a cup of tea and we sat in our usual chairs, I on the wing chair, he on the sofa, the dog by my side. I don’t recall the exact conversation but what I do remember is how heartily we laughed on a variety of topics. At one point we were laughing so hard tears were streaming down our cheeks. Passion, I thought. We have a very passionate marriage.
As I ponder these thoughts I wondered how many people don’t see the passion in their relationship and break up or divorce because they had a screaming match over something as insignificant as my windshield wipers. Passion, I realized isn’t about the big stuff when the movie scene crescendos and the lovers fall into each other’s arms and kiss for what seems like forever. Passion isn’t about the passion of Jesus, suffering up on that cross dripping blood and sweat down the wooden tree.
No, passion is about the highs and lows of a relationship and the smooth transition from one to the other. Passion is that burst of anger or resentment that, once you have vented, you regain your sanity and go on with life knowing that your partner will still love you. Passion is that outbreak of hysterical laughter over a silly little nothing that just tickled your funny bone to the point of tears. Passion can be a nightly ritual when your loved one rubs your back or your feet. Passion can be the thoughtfulness of helping your partner through a patch of unemployment, depression, or just a bad day. Passion can be the delight of a fabulous date night, or the joy of holding your firstborn.
Passion can be fleeting or lasting, but for me passion is the glue that keeps my relationship together. Why? Because no matter how intense the passion or how simple the passion, it is always the expression of our deep love for each other. It is the variety of our life together as we climb the mountains and traverse the valleys of passion. Ah, passion. Now, off to the store about those windshield wipers!