The Husband and I were having one of those moments in a relationship where all the magic has run out, and the only answer is to run out after it. I’m a great believer in the healing power of adventure, so we got in our the car and drove off into the sunset. Literally drove west without a plan.
We arrived in Bathurst after midnight, where the last vacancy was in The Irish Pub who offered us a very large prison cell for the night. That isn’t a shitty Tripadvisor review — the hotel was built in nineteenth century and shared its architect with the local gaol.
The room was cosy. The Husband was cute. The bed was comfy. I slept deeply and awoke the next morning with a dream still alive.
“The start of day five thousand and nineteen of our adventure into the great unknown,” I said out loud and woke The Husband.
“Day five thousand and fifteen. I was writing a log in Star Trek.”
We lay together in the warm awake — me doing the maths in my head. “Five thousand and nineteen days. That’s a long time, isn’t it? How long have we been together?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “13–14 years.”
“So long. How many days is that?”
One of the joys of marrying a geek is that he suggested, “Open Xcel. Type in today’s date, then minus the date we met.”
I pulled out the laptop and typed. When the answer appeared it was 5,019 days. The cursor blinked. I blinked. The Husband blinked.
“We’ve been together 5,019 days?”
“Not yet, it’s the start of day 5,019.” I typed another equation into Xcel. “I’m 18,263 days old.”
Husband hunkered down under the bedding. “You know what? You’re pretty good looking for an 18,147 day-old.”
“5,019 days and you’re still here.”
Here’s something that’s kept us together for 5,000 days and some nights. Surprise. I like him. He likes me. He’s still willing to embrace the whole dumb adventure of being. Still willing to up-sticks and runaway with me. But isn’t the mind a strange place.
“Day 5019 of our adventure into the great unknown.”