Today is Armistice Day at my house. My husband of 28 years and I have come to an understanding, signed an agreement, and shook hands on it, in keeping with the original of 1918, but we also sealed it with a kiss, which may or may not have happened back then. Probably not.
Wait, Armistice? You might now be thinking, if you’re still reading. Isn’t that in November, and isn’t that what parents, or maybe grandparents used to say instead of Veteran’s day? And what is Armistice anyway? I had to google this one because I really wasn’t sure, just as I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to do about some long-standing, years-running arguments my husband and I have had that have recently resurfaced. There is no google for that answer, but it turns out that I didn’t need it…but I’ll get to that later.
Apparently our grandparents were right in calling November 11th (now known as Veteran’s Day) Armistice Day, because it marked the temporary cessation of armed conflict between the Allies, and Germany at the end of World War 1. The agreement was signed on the 11th hour, on the 11th day, of the 11th month and effectively brought hostilities to a close (although true history buffs will know that while the fighting ceased on that date, a formal peace agreement was reached when the Treaty of Versailles was signed on January 10th, 1920). Armistice Day was the first step, and a major one, in ending a world war. While this War(ners! HA!), is not of world proportions, we are not for nothing, known in previous posts as The Bickersons.
My compatriot and I have always fought the good fight, side by side for a long time, longer than many. We’ve always had each other’s backs, and still do, but there are times, in any relationship, when a guard can go up, and a mask takes the place of that precious face you know better than your own, so that you might not know who this person is. It can be hard to know who to love, and who to hate, and if you are not careful, and constantly on guard, suddenly you might find yourself attacking your beloved, and he you, as if you were enemies instead of soldiers in the same army.
My husband and I have found ourselves here before. We’ve revived old hurts we should have drowned decades ago. We’ve given CPR to betrayals stiff and cold with rigor mortis. We’ve pumped blood into the broken parts of our hearts to watch it squirt out grotesquely, and all just to flaunt to the other, “See?!? You’ve hurt me! You did this! YOU!” And so, we hurt them back. An eye for eye. A heart for a heart. And, sometimes it ends there. Not just the argument, all of it. I don’t fault anyone for that. I don’t blame those who can’t do it anymore. I’ve thought I might be there many times, including yesterday, until I had an idea as I traipsed through the Maine woods, while taking pictures of the autumn display of scarlet maples and amber birches.
I thought, if bull-headed nations can honor a peace treaty, and put the past to rest, why can’t two bull-headed people? Sometimes talking about the past can be helpful, but it has not proven to be beneficial for us, and after almost three decades of marriage I think we can, and should move on. So that is what we did today, on the 10th day, of the 10th month at 10:10 am. Will this work? I have no idea. But, I do know that God honors agreements, and that my comrade in arms and I will do our best to do the same.
Addendum: In typical bi-polar fashion we skipped the armistice portion and went right for the treaty. We really saw no reason to wait. Bam!
