Born Stubborn

I was born stubborn. It's internal. My grandmother used to say I'd cut off my nose to spite my face. Looking way back I can see that the thing that has tripped me up over the last 79 years is wanting to do things my way. It's the way I learn. I take things, make them mine, tare them apart and put them back together. I cook and garden and love and pray my way. I am stubborn but given time to ponder and draw and write, I make sense of my world and hook what I can use out of the stream of life.

My husband, Lyle, the love of my life, my favorite person in this world, is totally different than I am. I mean: I believe in God, I am a Christian, a Franciscan. I pray, read, study the bible and have a spiritual community. Lyle watches people remodeling cars and rebuilding houses and reruns of NCIS on television. He remodels our house frequently. He has a car and a truck that run and two project cars in the garage that seem to me like big puzzles for him to work on. The Valiant has not hit the road in 20 years. The Firebird runs sometimes.

We celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary this month. I know this man. I love this man. He is smart, kind, funny and helpful in so many ways. I may not understand why we live with two drivable cars, a pickup truck, two project cars and wall to wall parts. We just do. I seem to have aged out of my inborn stubbornness and our differences are no longer tripping me up.

— Julian