We had been married for four months. We had moved three times (another memory). Marc had moved from Starbucks barista to an admissions counselor at our college. And I was knee deep in my senior year.
Part of Marc’s glamorous job responsibilities as admissions counselor was to visit and recruit from his territory – Ohio. So the time came. Our first significant time apart since our wedding.
I don’t remember feeling terribly apprehensive or nervous about this separation. We were busy enough that I imagine it must have been more a matter of course – but this is through the lens of 25 years of his travelling for one thing or another. Maybe I have forgotten. But what I do remember about this trip is spending a night or two or three with his mother and sister in the condo at Old Orchard Beach Maine. The main living room faced out into the ocean. It was fall and I think our days were surrounded in endless grays and whites in the sky and Atlantic.
I remember cooking. I remember sitting on the couches under heavy knit afghans as we all worked on knitting projects ourselves. We watched either Pride and Prejudice (BBC, 1995) or Anne of Green Gable followed by Anne of Avonlea – either way it was VHS style binge-watching.
I remember being warm and not alone. That first time Marc travelled.