Monday August 30, 2010
I met my spouse 20 years ago this month.
Twenty years seem like one of those milestones where it’s necessary to make these types of comparisons:
- We’ve been a couple for nearly half of my life.
- I am the same age now as my mother was when we met.
- My daughter is five years younger than I was when we met.
(Seriously, that last one freaks me out a bit so I am going to move on and pretend I didn’t just write it.)
I don’t think Tripp can really wrap his head around this significant chunk of time either. A perfect example – This weekend we were laughing about the squirrels hanging upside down from our bird feeder and he says to me, “Yeah babe, I remember at the lake one time I watched a squirrel get the lid off of the pail of birdseed.” I was like, “Um…yeah dear…I was there too. I watched it with you.” He just shakes his head and looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face. He doesn’t seem to remember that we’ve been together as long as we have. I used to get offended by it, but now I’ve decided to take it as a compliment when he says things like that. As in – life with me has been so wonderfully blissful that twenty years only feels like five. It’s just one of my little fantasies to help keep the magic alive.
The honest truth is, like most marriages, we’ve endured our share of tragedy and heartache. We’ve persevered through frustration and disappointment. But we’ve also shared the simple, yet profound joy of having a baby and raising a family. And we’ve celebrated the everyday victories that have kept our marriage strong and resilient.
It’s because of this that I am looking forward to the next chapter of our story together.