Of Life and Times

When I married Elaine I promised her that if I failed in all other aspects of life, I would always make her laugh. Today as we finished walking around the outside of the new Heber J. Grant building on campus, she thanked me for the tour of the new building. Since we really hadn't seen anything but the exterior, I assured her that it was my pleasure; tours about nothing are my specialty. She laughed.

As I turned to walk back to my office, I thought about the eventuality that the day will come when she has heard all my jokes, and my sense of humor is as at home in her head as it is in mine. What then? Will I still be able to make her laugh? Her laugh is precious to me, and I cast my mind into the waning years when two people who have been together a long time have grown accustomed to each other to the point that they are finishing each others' sentences, and know each other so well that they don't really need to ask what they think about something, because they already know how they will respond. What then?

I had a sweet realization come over me in the form of a hope that in that day Elaine will laugh because, even if I am not there, she will know what kind of quip I would come up with. I won't have to be Mr. Originality for her to find joy in my company. With time and age there seems come a peace, acceptance, and understanding that surpasses mere acquaintanceship with the other person that allows two people to be together in silence, in companionship or in company with others, and have them be completely at home with whatever comes out of their spouse's mouth.

Elaine has even begun to zing me on occasion. I find great joy in her sense of humor. I think the challenge of my life is to be changing and growing all the time, so that even when she thinks she knows me intimately I'll still be able to entertain her or take her by surprise in a new way.