A trip to the attic

A trip to the storage attic is an annual ritual around this time of year with us, as with many people, unless one has a basement, which we do not. An inspection tour of my nutcracker collection prompted me to venture up those perilous and rickety steps before the season gets into the swing. Wallace remained nearby at the ready to rescue me should I become entangled in the wobbly balusters or by the protruding utility pipes and wires that lend an altogether forbidding feeling to these forays. Guided by his supportive hands and kindly murmured encouragements I reach for the remote light switch. I am greeted by my pageant of silently patient soldiers waiting for their battle orders in the sultry dark. On first sight I always like to paraphrase Howard Carter’s exclamation on seeing King Tutankhamun’s treasure: “I see wonderful things!”

They are incarnate mementos, not only of how they were delicately placed a year before but also of the travels we have taken and the visits we have made around the world. Remember skating in Central Park? Skiing in Kitzbühel? Rickshaws in Da Nang? Yachting in Antibes? Snorkeling in St. Bart’s? Cool cabs in Mumbai? Trekking in Tibet? Poolside in Peru? Ramen in Sapporo? Sledding in Arkhangelsk? Believe it or not these were all occasions and locations to indulge in new acquisitions, some of which possess excessive charm and character in their mimicry of the old style! None of them ever measure up to the ballet-sized figure of fame (some come close) and none have ever seen a walnut no matter the size!

Any-hoo Wallace, bless his heart, knows that I can’t resist rooting around once I am up there and he helps me bring out most of the holiday ornaments for review. It has to be one of the signature differences between men and women, this distinction in focus. Wallace knows full well that, although our mission was to review the condition and inventory of the nutcrackers, our task would devolve into a much wider opportunity for inspection. In his deference to my wishes I see a brave willingness to submerge his impulse to tackle only one stated task. He is wise enough to have set aside enough time to humor me and to assist me in the fulfillment of my improvised agenda. It has not always been so and the evolution of his patience has served to enrich our marital experience and I daresay happiness. It is not a quality of infinite capacity but it does permit enough latitude in the gratification of my wishes to satisfy me.

This tendency for understanding and serenity in the face of unexpected demands (requests really, lest I be too hard on myself) cannot be foretold, girls. In my experience there is very little in the way of clues as to how a relationship will evolve from its first budding sprouts. If anything one might look to the family relationships from whence your partner comes in order to frame some reasonable prediction of latent tendencies. If we are merely snowflakes then the wind can blow us as it might, but we may still recognize the potential of one over another and the importance of suitability to one’s own makeup. In my observation the qualities of a good partnership have a tendency to evolve in unpredictable ways and the luck of the draw is apparently at work. Who would have thought that this meditation on a psychologically healthy approach to new suggestions and to accommodation would have evolved from the simple task to inventory my nutcrackers with my beloved Wallace?

Kisses all the way,

Celeste