It was our wedding anniversary this week. Me and Mrs Head have been married for 18 years although we’ve been together longer; living in what is called common-law marriage. 18 years is a long time. I’m told you can murder someone, plead guilty and be released maybe twice over in that time frame. To sport-minded folk like me it equates to 4.5 world cups or the same number of Olympic Games. It is a long time: 18 years.
And therefore it needs to be commemorated in some way. It needs a title. Silver Anniversary, ruby, gold, Diamond Anniversary they all have their own number attached. Every year since that March day in 1994 I have tried to remember the passing of a another orbit in our marital journey by giving my wife a trinket that reflects the anniversary theme attached to that year. In 1995 it was something made from paper. 2004: something made of tin.
As our 18th approached I had to find something Opal.
I had to google it as well. To me they were the classic name for the chewy fruity sweets that evolved into Starburst.
But it turns out the Opal has a popular culture attached to it that makes me wonder why it is not more popular.
It certainly is reflective of our personal history played out during the past 18 years.
In the Middle Ages, the opal was considered a lucky stone because it was thought to possess all the qualities of other gems. I nudge Mrs Head and prompt her: “Well that’s our marriage isn’t it”? Marriage is the ribbon we tie using the dexterity and skill of all our previous relationships. It is the sculpture chiselled with the qualities of all the other gems.
Fissures vein out deep and penetrating bringing a unique swirl of character and colouring to our stone.
Asperous and unfinished when it was taken from the mountain, with polishing it became a thing of beauty; the rough and the smooth it seems, dear readers.
Keep the Faith,