Last night was Movie Night.
The movie in question was “Julie and Julia,” the new movie with Meryl Streep playing Julia Child and Amy Adams her willing disciple. I thought I would come out of the movie hungry. Instead I came out feeling uplifted, optimistic, and in dire need of a certain cookbook. This movie is more than one about food and where it takes us; it’s a movie about marriage: the good and the bad. But mostly the good.
We learn through both Julie and Julia the importance and joy of having someone in our lives to support and encourage us. Both real-life women had husbands that opened their wives’ eyes to new ideas that led to new dreams. Both real-life husbands were there to cheer on their wives, indulge their passion, and sing their praises. In turn, both women had to understand when to put their husbands first and consider their lives together. This story is one that shows all that marriage is and all that it can be.
I am reminded of a trip I took a few years ago, when Charles and I were engaged. I stayed with a couple friend of ours at one of their parents’ home. The mom is a professional quilter—something that I envy and aspire to be. We all went on a tour of her studio: my friends, the mom and her husband, and me. As we walked around her drool-worthy studio in the ground floor of their beautiful home, her husband interjected with anecdotes about the time they acquired the mondo spool of invisible thread, or on which trip abroad they had found a certain piece of fabric. “Did you see this?” or “Let me show you something,” he would say, leading me away to see an annex for batting, or a cabinet for nothing but family heirloom quilts.
Along the way, I saw the tiny corner of an office he inhabited. “You can see who gets the priority around here!” he said. “But, how much space do I really need? This way, we can work on our own things, but still yell across at each other.” I looked at this adorable man and saw all the love he had for his wife written on his face, the delight he took in her career/hobby and her aspirations plain as day shining through his eyes.
All I could think of was my Charles. My Charles, who’s made my dreams his dreams, found new ways for me to follow them, championed my successes, and supported me if I failed. I have pursued different dreams in our time together, and he got behind each and every one of them with the same zeal. I looked at this friend’s dad and saw my future with Charles. And it looked good.
It still looks good.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to someone about a certain cookbook.
