It’s so corny to say that I would marry him all over again. But I would. Largely because I don’t think I have stayed so late at a party since our wedding night. Honeymoon babies have a way of making your wedding seem so special…. since yanno, you’re pregnant and nursing and tired and paying a babysitter anytime you leave the house after that.
When we decided to pile books all over the place as our wedding decorations I didn’t think about how one day I would be cursing his piles of books all over our marital home.
When the viking helmet became a crucial part of his wedding day attire I hadn’t planned on it turning into a keepsake and taking up permanent residence on the mantle in our living room.
When I sat on the back deck of our weird duplex and power drank a glass of wine in my Punky Power headband and the overalls I wore throughout my pregnancy with Emily I never really thought that I would come home from our honeymoon knocked up.
But we did.
And all of a sudden we had a new house and a baby and I quit my job and we navigated a brand new life with grace. We were a family of four.
But for a week we were newlyweds. It was just the two of us.
I got day drunk.
He got sleepy.
It was so, so good.
Four years. We have only been married for four years. So much has stayed the same. And so much has changed. The last four years have simultaneously gone by faster than any four years of my life and held some of the longest days.
A few weeks ago we were in the kitchen talking about marriage and I said that I finally was coming around to believing that maybe we could make it, maybe, just maybe we really would be those old folks with the rocking chairs one day. He looked at me and said “This marriage isn’t ending until one of us dies.”
He’s not a sentimental guy, at least not verbally. I thought that was the end of his train of thought. “I am not talking Murder One,” he added.
Cheers, MQD. Happy Anniversary. I am super happy that you plan on staying married to me and not killing me.