I remember the first time I saw my wife.  I was eleven or twelve years old.  I remember where she was standing, where the sun hovered in the sky, the color of her hair, the glint of light on the frames of her pre-adolescent glasses.  That moment was over twenty years ago.  Between then and now, we were married in a barn in rural Wisconsin.  We have lived in two houses, and two apartments.  We have changed jobs.  We have created two new people – our son and daughter.  We have almost been killed by elephants in Africa, and once, we were forced to outrun a freight train in northern Alberta.  At times, we have broken each other’s hearts.  We have acted foolishly.  But almost always, we have been there for one another and we have known each other in such a familiar and beautiful way that I do not expect you as the reader to understand because I don’t understand: my great fortune to have found this partner, the chemistry of my heart or brain, the physical proximity of two people on a planet, the notion of destiny, of love – of what love is . . . How people find one another – that mystery.

A friend asked me to write this valentine because she knew that during the course of writing my novel, SHOTGUN LOVESONGS, the relationship between my wife and I was stressed by long-distance travel, by money, and by a commitment to art. All of that is true. It was a terribly lonely time for me, and this is because I was away from her. Away from her smell, our bed, the pattern of our lives. I apologize if this writing rambles.  It is hard to vector in on love.  To summarize a marriage.

I don’t believe that we accomplish great things by ourselves.  I could not have written a book without my wife.  Not just because she managed our household while I was gone, or because she cared for our young son, or because it was her job that was keeping us financially afloat. But because when the going became difficult, when I could not imagine how I would ever frame in the narrative structure of my novel, my wife rather matter-of-factly said, “You can do it. Keep working. Don’t complain.” Continue reading →