We're just a couple of kids

I'm getting married in twelve days. That's not very far away. And that's why I'm justifying this pre-wedding blog post in the midst of final paper finishing. Because I won't have much time left before all posting will be post-wedding posting. And even though that sounds rather fatalistic, it'd probably be more accurate to say I'm scared and happy and anxious and excited all at once. 

I've been thinking a lot about the Margaret Atwood poem "Habitation":

Marriage is not

a house or even a tent

It is before that, and colder:

The edge of the forest, the edge

of the desert

the unpainted stairs 

at the back where we squat

outside, eating popcorn

where painfully and with wonder

at having survived even

this far

we are learning to make fire

This poem gives me a lump in the throat. Because marriage sometimes seems like the edge of ALL that I know and hey, I'm just a kid! But midst those images of cold and unknown I find immense comfort in knowing there is no one I'd rather eat popcorn with. And that I'm pretty sure Matt will figure out how to make fire because he's like a scientist. 

I also like knowing  that Margaret Atwood is not my end-all of marriage. And that there's this thing called eternity which even if I can't entirely understand, I can still strive for. And I like to believe that eternity was before even the tents and houses, and that it is actually warmer there. And ultimately, I hope that if I go into marriage believing in its sanctity and importance I will be able walk to the edge of the unknown 

(Matt will be holding my hand the whole time).

And that I think I can do.