Last Night

Last night, my husband and I attended the UPenn MSA Alumni banquet, where we saw some friends that we have grown with over the past 6 years. I remember the first banquet dinner I attended in 2007, when Mohamed and I had gotten back from hajj. As the wife of the alumnus, I felt strange to be there simply as a "wife." There were a few wives I met at that first banquet, and many MANY weddings I have attended since then (maybe 8 Upenn weddings). I witnessed the pool of banquet attendees gradually increase from 30 to 40 to 60, as people got married and started their families.

 The only markers of that time that has passed is the children. Once you get married, there really is no other progress to indicate the health of a relationship other than a child--and perhaps the fact that you are still married. It is quite a strange deliverable and marker, but I believe this is the marker set by my particular community. After 6 years, I am at times still struggling in this role of "wife." Of course my other roles as "friend" and "daughter" and "sister" have expanded and changed in many capacities. Even my role as "employee" has expanded, given my increasing ability to be a better follower. I feel like I have tried to be there for people, to be there when things fall apart and a game plan is needed. I feel that I am decisive when it counts, in matters of the heart, I am a huge risk taker and successful in my choice. Yet, this role of "wife" seems increasingly unintelligible. How do I even know I'm good at this? Will I get better? Why does it feel like I still suck after 6 years?

On an entirely different note, my husband and I have seen friends get married and grow their families. It is a blessing to see our friend's children, and to know that we will experience snapshots of their lives, in birthdays, graduation parties, and even weddings. I pray that I am alive to experience these moments in my friends' children's lives.  As Kate Bolick summarizes, "Let's Hear it For Aunthood." Why not, right? I should maximize on this role and time in my life.

 I mentioned to one alumnus, who had recently traveled to 28 countries, about the importance of documenting his travels through a blog--even if no one reads the blog. "You never know," I told him. "I got to know my husband through my blog," I continued. The importance of a written repository when our memories fails seems like a good practice. I believe to this day, he is probably the only one to read this so-called blog that gets updated maybe once or twice a year. It's worth it, however, to know that this exists as a place for me to remember how our relationship started, and changed, or didn't change. Last night, in Philadelphia, I felt grateful to remember.