It came with my husband, this neat little kit in its black case, his purchase for his first semester in college at the University of Alaska. It seemed to embody his dream of a college education. By the time we were irreversibly in love, he had to quit college and go to work to help support his family after his father’s massive heart attack. As soon as the family got some help from the government, the US Navy had dibs on him. We got married anyway, having no idea what would happen to us, but by then, it felt like the perfect next step. As it turned out, we were together for the next four years. Two babies came. The biology kit waited in a drawer, the scissors pulled out on occasion to wrap a Christmas gift or snip a kite string.
College came next, a challenge with two little kids and very little income. But we managed. And things eased up with his first job, at a salary of $10,800 a year. How would we ever spend that much money, we wondered. We saved, bought our first house, then moved to New Hampshire. The biology kit moved right along with us.
Just recently, after an Achilles tendon injury which eventuated in a heel wound, I pulled out the kit and used those scissors for countless bandagings. This morning, while organizing all the wound apparatus that we can thankfully pack away, there they were. I slipped them into their little pocket and realized something of what makes a marriage work. We take on each other’s hopes and dreams. We treasure and protect them, we make them our own, we strive to make them come true. It is not all white lace and promises but it’s worth the effort. The magic is in the commitment.