I was just thinking about marriage. Don’t ask me why. I’m 28 and single and yet my thoughts sometimes drift to an imaginary house where I’m reading on the couch, minutes away from having to pick the kids up from soccer practice, while my wife lays out the ingredients to a meal she and I are going to cook while the kids get cleaned up. In that imaginary house, music plays from a stereo tucked into some corner, a Boston Terrier is scampering across the living room floor, at war with a bacon-flavored chewy, and the trees outside the window are blowing in the breeze, the leaves already beginning to change color.
Damn it. I’m getting older.
So this is what it’s like. I guess it’s not all that bad. Makes you wonder where it comes from, though. Is it that the older you get, the more you begin to realize how short life is? Is the urge to settle down innate? Hardwired into our brains? Or a response to something in our environment? The majority of my friends from high school and college are either engaged or married, so I know I’m not the only one who’s given it some thought. Some of them are already makin’ babies!
Did someone say babies? Oh, hell. Get me away from this keyboard.