The Writing of our Story

wedding1

I almost answered too quickly.

Yes! A thousand times!

I really didn’t realize he was going to ask, until the scene started playing out in slow motion.

And then I knew what was coming was a question that would change my life.

Will you be my wife?

Yes.

There was nothing else I would rather be.

We began our journey through young adulthood to parenthood and beyond, not knowing much about the future other than who we would be sharing it with. The writing of our story unfolded one year at a time, through new jobs, new addresses, new little additions to our family.

And now, almost on the other side of parenting, we are at a place that feels much like when we started out.

Not knowing the path, but knowing who we will share it with.

And that question that changed my life?

I would answer it the same 26 years later.

Happy Anniversary, babe.

 

Vows

I watch them from my seat in the dimly lit ballroom, watch the sparkling lights dance on her gown as she spins.

Her smile fills her face and his heart, as he gently dips and sways with her to the music. They are so young, so much in love and so very newly-wed. Less than one hour old, their marriage is as fresh as they come and filled with promise and hope.

I want to stop the music and tell them to go — go NOW and start their life together. Before it’s too late. Before life gets in the way. Before obligations and bills and children and sickness scare them into being adults. Before the drudgery of Monday morning creeps right into Sunday night.

But their smiles, their laughter and their tears while reading their vows are my answer. They ARE starting their life together, and it begins today. She calls him her “person” and she is his “rock”.

I cannot take my eyes off of them as they dance and whisper and giggle.

I try to find a bit of wisdom, something a long-married woman could share with a beaming young bride that would be inspirational or awe-inspiring — a string of poetry, a line from a romantic movie, even something from a cheesy greeting card.

Nothing. There is nothing I can share beyond the simple words they uttered at the altar.

Love. Honor. Cherish.

All the days of your life — for as long as you both shall live. Because life has a way of moving forward, of ticking along when you don’t see it coming, of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect them.

Love can conquer a lot of stuff, but you have to feed it daily. Give more than your share, with no expectations.

And always remember to dance.

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This piece originally appeared on Moonfrye

25 Years to Life

He says I still have that new bride smell.

That man I exchanged “I do’s” with twenty-five years ago this week…the man I promised to love and to cherish, to honor and cook for, and to continue to laugh at his potty humor until death do us part.

Twenty-five.

Wow.

In that amount of time, people tend to hoard accumulate things. Things that may or may not have a real use later on down the road, yet they stay on the shelf, tucked away for later. Maybe these things were actually used for years, used to the point that even the donation truck might leave them on the side of the road.

We have things like that.

  1. A kitchen trashcan in the most beautiful 80s shade of baby blue. While it has served a long and useful life of 25 years, the cracks extend a wee bit further down the side each week.
  2. The hamper for our dirty clothes that was purchased on a romantic shopping trip to Cost Plus, during which time we declared, “Let’s join our dirty clothes!” and it still serves dutifully. Unfortunately, there are no cracks and I think this one may outlast us all.
  3. A toaster oven, which was lovingly gifted to us on our wedding day by a wedding guest who shall remain nameless (because I can’t remember). Hubs feels that the toaster oven is the be-all-end-all of kitchen appliances. I feel like it looks like a cross between R2D2 and SpongeBob SquarePants, and have relegated it to the cupboard.
  4. Matching set of bamboo beach mats, purchased on our first trip to Hawaii so many years ago. While they seemed like a great idea, nobody told us about the crazy pattern the bamboo leaves on your exposed skin. Ouch. They have resided in the attic ever since, never to see sand again.
  5. Blown-glass drink stirrers, with various tropical birds perched on the end. These were purchased on our honeymoon in Mexico, and we envisioned raging parties hosted at our tiny apartment where we would pass out drink stirrers to our happy guests. I am still trying to figure out exactly what type of drink requires stirring.
  6. A humongous counter-top microwave oven from the 80s, the size of which rivals a mini-Cooper. After occupying half of the entire kitchen counter-top for years, we moved to our current home which has a built-in microwave. Sixteen years ago. The intended recipient of the microwave (college kid) claims that his roommate has one. I fear I will one day be buried in it.
  7. A VCR. I cannot even imagine why we still have this. For you young ones, this is the prehistoric version of the modern-day DVD player.
  8. We still have the very first can opener we purchased, back when opening a can meant, “Dinner is served!”. I am pretty sure we are all current on our tetanus shots.
  9. The fire extinguisher that hangs in our garage, in that manly section referred to as the “Home Safety Center” by hubs. I fear that when I actually need a fire extinguisher, only glitter and dust will come out of the nozzle.
  10. A large paper-mache parrot, who has been a prized possession since our honeymoon in Mexico. We brought him home on the airplane back in the days when you could carry-on strange objects that could be used to pummel someone and take over the plane. Now he would be subject to a body-cavity search.

 

Sentimental old fools, or hoarders?

What do you still have after all these years?