Married Asian

Please don't let me sound racist, but I married Asian. My husband's mother is Indonesian (immigrated to the states at 13) and so family functions on their side are wonderful. Tons of food, amazing laughs, great stories (Opa tells of killing an anaconda (barefoot, mind you) that was threatening his village) and endless, unconditional love. I love it and very affectionately and proudly refer to myself now as Asian by marriage.

The other night it was confirmed that Asia is in my blood. (My husband's aunt is quick to clarify that I am not Asian, but Pacific Islander. The need for clarification only solidifies the Asian in my mind.) At the local art museum my husband and I were awed by the Asian art exhibit on display. It was centuries of warrior costumes, pottery, idol statues and the most exquisite calligraphy and sketching. One such collections of sketches took our breath away.

(Google did not have the image. I have lost much respect for that dotcom now. As a result, you will have to close your eyes and just imagine. Here's what to let your mind conjure up:

One of the tiniest little black sketchbooks that you see at bookstores for ungodly amounts of money that they market to ascribe to the likes of Hemingway and I think even Da Vinci. At any rate, they are adorable and I own several. ANYWAY, picture one of those little leather bound black sketchbooks. Turn to any page and see beautiful Chinese characters on one page and breathtaking Chinese landscapes on another--all in ink and light colors in varying hues of gray and red. Hills, flowers, rivers. Beauty.)

Isn't that a nice picture? But what took our breath away was the caption. Here's what it read:

"A husband and wife, who shared interests in poetry and painting, made this small album in commemoration of a trip they took. Its miniature size suggests the intimacy between them."

The existence of such a book confirms my Asian destiny: Rory and I inscribed a sketchbook that we shared years ago (before the married days even I think) dedicating it to the writer (me) and the painter (him) who together would compose our story (the names Rory and Stephanie put together).

Is this more than a tie to a culture? Clearly. It's a tie to a romance that was destined. And to see a couple sharing the same thing centuries ago took our breath away. I married Asian, but I am following a long legacy of love. It's a story too beautiful to happen more than once and yet it's all around us.