Last week J and I celebrated our 3rd wedding anniversary. Forever. Only a handful if you round up.
“Think of how much we didn’t know about each other 3 years ago?” We laugh at the thought. Here we are. Past the initial transition, that exciting six to twelve months. Past the awkward revelations (you do dishes how? you pay bills how? you want to what?). Past the tip-toeing. Here we are. Three years in. Still so young.
“Can you pick up some half and half?” to him.
“Can you pick up some cage bedding?” to me.
“Did you see they finally got that bog apart?” to him.
“The Bay of Pigs was [insert summary of historical event]” to me.
And so it goes.
We fish and we camp. We get groceries and watch shows and rotate between sitting in the front yard and sitting in the backyard. We read books and tell each other about them. We say hello and goodbye during lunch. We live in these tiny exchanges – somewhere between the surface and the depths. Somehow after three years love looks like tidbits and picking-things-up and reminders. Ordinary everyday things that weave a story and bind us together. Somehow moments like these envelope you, slip together, draw you in, connect. All these daily back and forths create a knowing of the other. A diving board for and sandy-beach-reprieve from the deeper things of life.
Here we are. Forever to go.