Monday 8 July 2013

When I Married You...




Eight years ago, when I married you, I thought I knew what marriage was.  I had it all figured out, it was two people, just us every minute of every day - and there was no one else in the world.  I would get to spend all my time with you, and be adored by you, and all of the yucky things like snakes, and spiders and fears and sadness, would simply disappear - because it was just me and you and together we could beat anything.  Eight years ago, I would have said, we are perfect for each other, that we are the very best of friends, and that marriage isn't so hard to figure out as long as we had each other.

Eight years is a long time - and as days transform themselves into weeks, months, and years, it becomes more and more clear that not only did I really not know what marriage is, but that I am still trying to figure it out.  It turns out, that you wanted more in a best friend than just someone who was infatuated with you, someone who would only tell you what you want to hear.  Instead we've learned to tell each other the truth, to speak in a way that doesn't hurt, and when it does hurt - to work until we understand.  That friendship means a smile for you when you come home, and a sincere appreciation of the fact that you love to play games, and will always love to play them - even if I do not.  Friendship means working together, even on projects we can't remember why we started, on our home - when that closet door falls off for the thousandth time, or the sink backs up, or I knock the side view mirror off of the car....Best friends means we forgive, even before we tick each other off, and that when we're angry, we don't stay that way. As far as "perfect" for each other - we're not, but thank goodness for that.  Can you imagine the boredom around here if we ever achieve perfection? Let's just keep being not perfect together.

Then to the question of love.  What is love? At the very least, I think it changes. It changed for us, didn't it? At first it was all sweet, and adorable, butterflies and flowers, romance and the smell of rain in the springtime, but love changes.  It gets roots, and starts to grow down deep, and take hold in experiences and memories, like the time you lost your job, the time we drove to Banff, the time I lost the keys, working through the summer to fix up this house, coaxing Calypso out from behind the couch with tuna, holding Micah finally, and looking down into Olivia's little face, and love becomes less something fuzzy and bubbly, and more something rooted and deep, warm and comfortable.  

It struck me the other day, I still think you're handsome - and I get a little glow when you smile at me.
We are full of hope on this adventure - it's not always fun, it's not always easy, but you don't know how happy I am that I'm with you.  

Even though we almost forgot this year...as someone wise once said, Home is wherever I'm with you.

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful, both the photo and the words. Congratulations to you both!

    ReplyDelete

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