High Dive

On Saturday, beautiful & blustery, Todd and I drove to Santa Cruz.  Strolling down the boardwalk, we came upon a huge plunge pool rigged with an 85-foot high dive set up on the beach.  And it struck me, as we watched the "pirate" do his swan dive from the thin plank set so far up in the sky, that getting married is a bit like jumping off a high dive:

For one, both high divers and fiances are a bit delirious up there at the top.  From their vantage point, everything below is shiny and sparkling, and they feel plucky and daring and utterly exhilarated with the feeling of it all.  Both high divers and fiances have to be a little crazy, too, or, to put it more charitably, they need to have a whole lot of faith.  The diver, in that his skill and strength and the day's conditions, will see him safely streaking into the pool down below. The couple, in that their love and trust will weather all the challenges of life, and that they will  

still be happily holding hands as somebody's grandma and grandpa one day.

Love is a gamble at best - an earnest, fantastic gamble that a couple's bond will be as great for years to come, as it is now.  

But every day that two people live, treating each other with care and affection, listening to and supporting one another, just having fun together, each day stacked upon the next strengthens the proposition that this love will last.  

That it will change is certain.  Through change, though,  love might surpass itself, might unfold in delicious new ways, might be tested with new responsibilities but grow because of them...or it might not.  It's hard to say.  Love is as mysterious as it is wonderful. It's a gamble, sure, but one entirely worth making.