Banana

Marriage is hard. Everyone knows. All those who commit expect some degree of struggle. Small things, big things. Pity parties and rightful indignation come and go. When I’m able to step back I can appreciate the drama as an odd game. I play the husband. In RPG terms, I have my characters attributes: Decent health, low EQ, interested in abstraction, not great with the logistics, moderate enthusiasm… on one hand, they seem real, immutable. It’s just me. Perhaps only right now. It’s empowering to consider how I can change, improve.

The game is much more interesting, juicier, thicker than that. My first note on this blog quoted Franck Chimero: “Life is big—much bigger than just yours.” And yet, each of us is also the whole thing. Elusive. Mystical. My three-year-old once asked, out of nowhere, “What was your face before you were born?” It can sound like baby talk or like the deepest possible question. I later learned it’s literally a Zen koan.

It’s funny how explanations framed for children and spiritual matters have a lot in common. In all other contexts, details are needed the thread meaning and subsequently, trust. What once sounded like pure BS now sometimes carries a quality with no name. And maybe that’s an important fact of life.

I try to point this out to my wife, too often for her taste. She just wants to figure out nap schedules and school pickups and lunch prep. I’m lost 3 sentences in, indecisive. My only interest is to mansplain why this conversation is not going to end well (spoiler: it’s because of how little I have to contribute). Just listening to and offering empathy is not only tricky, it’s simply not more productive.

What if she’s right on everything? Especially after checking one instance where she was, at least according to internet checked common sense (aka Reddit + Wikipedia). Like the other day when she scolded me for throwing banana peel out in the wild. Apparently it’s not kosher according to the leave no trace policy. You gotta pack it up or bury it. I thought it was better to give back to nature to gracefully decompose. The harsh sun would dehydrate it in a few hours and a few months would have it back into humus. Too candid? The conversation is bottomless. We’ll bury next time so everyone is happy.

Attention shifts and constant noise makes communication difficult. We don’t hear half of what each other says. Assumptions fill the gaps. Domestic life is an improvised dance. To those not hearing the music, the ones dancing seem crazy.

But there’s some light. The other day she told me she felt, for the first time ever, a little ache that made her think of her mortality. That banana knows it will be back in the ground.