The Things We Do For Love
By Joely Johnson Mork
I spent a big chunk of my 30s and the beginning of my 40s living in upstate New York. It was an old boyfriend who first summoned me to the Saratoga area from Philadelphia. We thought we could rekindle our once-soulmated high school romance by my joining his grownup life, but that spark sputtered out not long after I arrived. Instead, I wound up single again at age 36, with a new personal vow that I would never again move my life to follow a man.
After that reality check of a breakup, I found my way to the nearby city of Troy, where I finally discovered real work and connected with a sincere group of friends. It was also where I met my husband and (eventually) gave birth to my son.
Unlike most women I know, I never expected to marry or have a family. Growing up in a broken home and something about practicing the “engaged detachment” of yoga since the age of 18 had led me to feel pretty distant from those very human goals. But I did get married, and the man who ultimately changed my mind about that is younger than I am by more than just a few years. On a crisp September wedding day, I am proud to say I was still holding it together at 39, and he was a very fresh-faced 26. The great majority of the time, this age difference has no effect on our marriage or on our lives. But then, not long after our fourth anniversary, a recruiter made a phone call, and the wheels of change started turning.