The motorcycle

If you haven't heard, Jason is getting a motorcycle. I know all the reactions by now, the shaking of the head, the eye rolls, the quick intake of breath. I know them, I've done them, I've seen you all do them.

For ten years I did my best to foil his intentions and I gave him every argument in the book on why this was a bad idea. I won't regurgitate them all here as we all know them. For the record, crying doesn't work and neither does screaming or calling him names. A few months ago he said he was going to do it. Period.

By this point I am tired. I'm tired of fighting. There are so many other things that could be wrong in our marriage, I gave up. That doesn't mean I'm not upset or scared or angry, but I'm done. I told him to increase his life insurance, and that I was done fighting. He did, and we are.

When I started to share this news of the impending bike with my friends, everyone of them confirmed what I was feeling, except for one. I was floored when my friend Becca said to me, "Laura, think of the joy you can bring Jason by giving him your blessing to fulfill his lifelong dream of having a motorcycle?" Huh? Becca's words, although not what I wanted to hear, made me stop in my tracks. And she's right.

So Jason has started shopping. I still haven't gotten to the point of showing enthusiasm when he shows me used motorcycles on Craigs List, but I'm trying. Now I'm just hoping that when he finally is on his bike, and I see his joy, that I feel it too.