By my calculation, I've now been re-married nineteen days and counting, and those nineteen are among the happiest I've ever known.
This partly comes of finding someone with a powerful inclination to make herself pleasing to those around her, and then taking particular care to be around her.
And, of course, happiness is implicit in the word
honeymoon.
It also helps to be over head and ears in love.
But the dramatic justice of the thing accounts for much of my feeling of
bien-être. Finally winning the heart of one's first mature love--indeed, being confirmed in the secret suspicion one always had that it had been no mere crush, but one's first mature love, indeed--is about as satisfying as anything in this life can be. At the wedding luncheon, an old friend told me that she knew no one who'd lived a life as romantic as mine, or words to that effect; and, on reflection, I can well believe it.
I expect this marriage to enlarge my soul beyond all recognition. As the past, present and future strive within me, I'm discovering that love, hope, pleasure, optimism and all sorts of other good feelings can exist side by side with regret, sorrow, guilt, and a sort of existential yearning that defies expression. To hold all these feelings at once in my breast without absolutely going 'round the bend is going to require a deftness of psyche that, up to now, I've not been called upon to exercise.
I'll be posting further comments during lucid intervals, if any.
