Now that I have an inconvenient medical condition, I think
about what I did to cause it. I smoked for fourteen years, knowing that it was
a terrible thing for me, knowing that Dad died of lung cancer, as did several
of his brothers and sisters. I think about eating badly, and exposure to all
kinds of pesticides and chemicals and god knows what over the years.
Also, being superstitious, I think about all the taboos I’ve
broken: all the salt I’ve spilled without throwing a few grains over my
shoulder, all the ladders I’ve walked under.
Mostly I think guiltily of all the people I've been
unpleasant to, or actually hurt, either accidentally or on purpose. (Of course
I have. You have too. But we’re talking about me, not you.)
But I have had very much happiness in this life – more than
I deserve, really. Partner is largely responsible for much of that. But I was
lucky to grow up in a place that was as beautiful as Washington state; lucky to
go to a funky Catholic-liberal college like Gonzaga in the crazy 1970s; lucky that
my first city was Spokane, an easy-to-navigate place that wasn’t at all threatening;
lucky to get into Brown for grad school (though I threw it over after a year);
lucky to find my way to Providence, my dear dowdy hometown for thirty-five
years now; lucky to get into the Peace Corps, and meet all kinds of interesting
people, American and Moroccan and British and Tunisian, some of whom still keep
in touch with me; lucky after that to work at Brown University, in a job that has
mostly been very good for me, and to work alongside people whom I have grown to
love and respect.
And then there’s Partner.
I cannot even tell you what he means to me. We met in 1995,
and I knew as soon as I saw him that I probably loved him. Does that sound
silly? He tells me that he felt the same way, and I respect him too much to
tell him that I have a hard time believing that anyone could ever love me at
first sight. At any rate, we were living together within a few years. We moved
to our present residence in 2002 – a nice little apartment, just right for the two
of us. I’ve grown to love Partner’s family – his two sisters and their families
– and I think of them and love them as my family, just as I feel about my own
family back in Washington.
Partner and I have grown older together. We’ve traveled
together. We’ve been angry with each other, and reconciled. We’ve been sick,
and taken care of each other. We shop for groceries together, and go to work
together in the morning.
I’d be lost without him.
No matter what happens from here on, I consider myself very lucky.
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