Something Old

Lately, I’ve been thinking about marriage.

I think somewhere in the distance I just heard my father load his shotgun….

Relax, Dad.

I’m thinking about marriage because I spent the weekend with my grandparents in Phoenix and they seemed determined to secure their only granddaughter’s future.

I wanted to tell them a couple million would make me feel nice and secure.

When I walked in the door the first thing they asked (after Grandma said my blond hair didn’t match my skin color and Grandpa asked if I still liked “that dictator in the White House who is friends with Castro”) was whether or not I was getting married any time soon.

For those of you on the edge of your seats – the answer is no.

My grandfather, in particular, was interested in the subject. Maybe it’s because he noticed my ever deepening smile lines or maybe my ovaries were giving some kind of “ANY DAY NOW” signal only grandfathers can hear.

Whatever the case, he wouldn’t let it go.

The conversation got so deep into marriage that when he started talking about me exchanging vows on his farm, I half expected him to open the closet door and shout excitedly “TO THIS MAN I FOUND ON THE STREET!”

On the long car ride back to Los Angeles I started to think about why I’m not even close to walking down the aisle.

Yes, it’s true. I think about it sometimes – when I’m not thinking about how I’m going to make rent or how I’m going to juggle two jobs or how I’m going to pay my taxes or how I am going to become a successful actor.

Somewhere…in the recesses of my mind…the thought of bringing someone else into my world occasionally crosses my mind.

But as I’m always reminded when I go home, I have made different choices than most my friends. I chose to pursue a career that demands a lot of selfishness and a lot of sacrifice.

I don’t have time to be a part of someone’s world because I hardly have time for my own.

I don’t have room for someone else because I live in a studio so I can afford headshots and – if I’m lucky – food.

And just when I think I’m happy with my choice. When I’m feeling very modern, and powerful, and forward thinking, I remember the last night I spent at my grandparent’s house.

My grandfather is getting older. He needs my grandma more and more for simple things like taking off his socks or getting up from his chair. These two have never been big on showing each other affection – or even expressing it verbally – and my grandma cares for him patiently and silently.

And as I was falling asleep on the couch, after a particularly tough day for my grandpa, I heard him whisper to my grandmother as he lay next to her in bed.

You know, I love you.

And she whispered back.

I love you too.

And then I think maybe my studio apartment is big enough for that.