Is marriage more than words can say?

The most wonderful retired couple sat in the coffee shop Tuesday morning.

They each had a cup of coffee and a pastry and sat on the same side of the table instead of facing each other.

There wasn't so much as a newspaper to entertain them. They sat there in almost complete silence, sipping coffee and studying passersby. Their arms lightly touched. One time in half an hour, she looked over at him and whispered something, and he shook his head and smiled.

I've seen lots of older husbands and wives in restaurants over the years and felt a lot of admiration, but that was mingled with a little concern because they don't seem to speak.

With my seventh wedding anniversary just a few weeks off, I've noticed a considerable decrease in the amount of conversation around the Hall household. In some cases, our communication has been reduced to a series of grunts and gestures like primitive man.

For instance, when I'm ready to go, I point at The Other Half and raise my eyebrows. He shrugs and puts down whatever he's doing. Can it be long before we simply claw at the door and yelp when we're ready to go out?

We tend to repeat the same conversations: the same arguments that won't be resolved, the same observations about the cuteness of our cat (don't remind me how pitiful that is), the same need-to-know-basis inquiries that keep us fed and the electricity on.

I think the seven-year itch is less about frisky, unattached members of the opposite sex living in nearby apartments -- the scenario set out in the 1955 movie of the same name -- and more about assessing a marriage and deciding whether there is anything left to say to your spouse.

And, if not, should you move on to someone with a whole new set of conversations to offer?

After all, when you first met the person you married, he or she had plenty to say. First, there's the period when you have to find out everything about each other -- upbringing, political views, past relationships gone wrong -- commonly called the informational stage.

Then there's the deciding where the relationship is headed, or the assessment stage.

And finally, there's planning for the wedding, or the lunacy stage.

The first couple of years of marriage you spend learning the truth about each other and fighting like pit bulls, so that's plenty of conversation.

Then it begins tapering off.

I talked to some male friends of mine who have been married similar lengths of time. They told the same story.

"The most meaningful question my wife has asked me lately was, 'Was that you?'" one said.

The other one is a little more sensitive. "I try to ask my wife about her day, but she doesn't want to tell me," he said.

A man who's been married a little longer said he rekindled conversation in his marriage by purchasing their first cell phones.

"I called my wife the other day just to ask what she was doing," he said proudly.

Give a man a gadget and he'll do anything.

And then there's my friend Bonnie in Pensacola, Fla. When she and her husband travel the width of the state to see their son in Jacksonville, there is one sentence uttered on the trip. As they pass the exit for Chattahoochee, where the state mental institution is located, one turns to the other and says, "Shall we stop?"

It isn't romance, but what do you want after 33 years of marriage? They love each other and don't need words for it anymore.

So maybe things will be OK with The Other Half and me. I'm going to start attempting communication through mental telepathy and see what happens.

Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.