Anchor Struck

Every morning and evening Jude and I each take a teaspoon of vegan powder, a bioflavonoid

mixture of proprietary extracts of grape and green tea.  It contains methyl sulfonyl methane

and glucosamine hydrochloride.  I could continue the list of ingredients, but the next one

is fructooligosaccharides.  I think the manufacturers just started making silly words up to

fill out the label.

In the vernacular of our household, it’s “gunk”.  The stuff is for pain relief and it works well.

We both noticed an immediate improvement in our joints and backs.

It tastes terrible.  We put it in water, stirring it thoroughly with a fork to break up any globs

that could explode in our mouths and ruin our day, possibly week.  We could mix it in juice,

but that would leave us with an unsavoury memory of an otherwise first-rate beverage.

We often mix the gunk for each other.  I was doing that recently when I realized that if I

weren’t in cahoots with this lovely lady, I very likely wouldn’t be drinking this awful stuff.

But when you’ve found the perfect life partner and you want to maximize your time together,

you’ll gleefully drink gunk.

And to me, that’s the long end of love.  Bouquets wilt and boxes of candy don’t last long, but

building careers, making families and maintaining homes are lifetime chores and aren’t for

sissies.  Keeping the lovelight burning as outside pressures and responsibilities accumulate

is one of life’s greatest challenges.

So the blazes of youth mellow into woodstove fires: warm, comforting and long lasting.  The

best couples learn that gaps in their bond don’t mean less love but more room for light and

air.  It’s difficult to learn, priceless to know.  And never too late to find out.  I thank Random

Chance that I have.

So, Jude, my luv, this glass of gunk is for you.