I don’t pretend to know for all what makes a marriage last. I really could never say. Sometimes, marriages end by no fault of one person or another, or sometimes, they do by the fault of one or another.
But for me, I think it has something to do with being quiet and just hanging up the four coats strewn across a dining room chair or just shutting up and putting away two pairs of size eleven boots that are precariously placed where someone could trip on them. For my husband, I think it probably has something to do with ignoring the fact that I don’t put away any laundry, ever, and smiling and hugging me when I burn dinner.
For us, the secret seems to be in staying quiet about one another’s insignificant faults but at the same time, speaking up when needed — like over essential things, character things, big things, kid things, but mostly in doing so gently and with respect. Sometimes, we do it loudly, I guess, but we choose our battles carefully. But otherwise, I wonder if my marriage has survived almost 15 years (and 22 years of a relationship) because we’ve learned just to accept our petty flaws? Because we’ve stayed quiet? Instead, we’ve focused, on most days, on what we do well and who we are at the core that really matters. This little stuff (while annoying) is just little stuff.