the ministry of magic
Every couple knows it's hard to find good couple friends. Cate and I have a few sets of those, one being Erin and Jason. Jason's a fellow composer and kindred spirit, Erin's a concert pianist and chief of a massive and dynamic music school in Austin, and together they match us well, with broad interests in culture and politics and ideas and food and drink and religion and travel and the life well lived.
Recently, Erin mentioned that she "came down the stairs, expectantly sat down next to the Christmas tree and said 'Accio tea!' and Jason swirled my already-made tea through the air all the way to me from the kitchen."
Everything about that is fantastic. Of course, it shows that they're big Harry Potter fans, with reference to a spell that brings things flying to your hand. (In Rowling's world, Latin has powers. What on earth did wizards do before Romulus and Remus came along?) It also shows a different kind of magic, though. Having a loving spouse invokes a deep magic of its own; that we know, many of us. Even better, a spouse who lovingly engages in an act of servitude; even better, does so with creative whimsy.
But a few of us — who knows how many? — get to experience a spouse who understands us. So often I see couples in which one person makes a great show of putting up with some feature of the other (love of opera, enjoyment of Thai food, woodcarving hobby). That's not the same thing. I feel so fortunate to be married to Catherine, who not only understands and shares my passions but, crucially, understands that I have passions, and has them as well. I'm not being poetic when I call life with her divine.
Ah, to turn to another person and dare to say, "Alohomora!"
Wingardium Leviosa.
Recently, Erin mentioned that she "came down the stairs, expectantly sat down next to the Christmas tree and said 'Accio tea!' and Jason swirled my already-made tea through the air all the way to me from the kitchen."
Everything about that is fantastic. Of course, it shows that they're big Harry Potter fans, with reference to a spell that brings things flying to your hand. (In Rowling's world, Latin has powers. What on earth did wizards do before Romulus and Remus came along?) It also shows a different kind of magic, though. Having a loving spouse invokes a deep magic of its own; that we know, many of us. Even better, a spouse who lovingly engages in an act of servitude; even better, does so with creative whimsy.
But a few of us — who knows how many? — get to experience a spouse who understands us. So often I see couples in which one person makes a great show of putting up with some feature of the other (love of opera, enjoyment of Thai food, woodcarving hobby). That's not the same thing. I feel so fortunate to be married to Catherine, who not only understands and shares my passions but, crucially, understands that I have passions, and has them as well. I'm not being poetic when I call life with her divine.
Ah, to turn to another person and dare to say, "Alohomora!"
Wingardium Leviosa.
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