Lucky 13


Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of the day I married my guy. Love him to pieces. I often joke that we’re two middle children so we’re not getting anywhere in life, but in the end, honestly, if our life stayed the same as it is now, I wouldn’t have much to complain about it. Oh, don’t get me wrong– of course I’d still complain about the usual stuff, money, houses, careers, complacency, blah blah–but my dad would still tell me how spoiled I am and there’s still no one I’d rather crawl into bed next to at the end of the day.

Ours is certainly not a perfect marriage, but I like to think it’s a good one. He puts up with my moods and my need to ask him if he loves me at least a dozen times a day even though I know the answer. He never makes me feel dumb even though he sometimes has to correct my use of vocabulary and often needs to get me to where I need to go because I am incredibly directionally challenged. I put up with his strange sense of humor and his affinity for things science fiction and horror. I enjoy his mini lectures on history or film. I don’t even mind his Target wardrobe that hasn’t changed in twenty years any more. There is a kindness and generosity about him that those close to him already know, and those not only have to watch him with any of his girls (wife, daughter, dog) to see. And of no small consequence, as any family member or friend can tell you, he makes the best damn oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies around.

As a couple, we are not always at the top of the social scene because neither of us is particularly charismatic or good at the small talk, and we are well, nerds (Did I mention how we watch the SciFi Channel on Friday nights?). So we may not be glamorous movers and shakers, but together, we’re still good. We’ve been a couple for almost twenty years now, though that hardly seems possible. We’ve seen each other through the sickness and deaths of loved ones and through seven years of trying to start a family complete with miscarriages and surgeries. We can do the proverbial finishing of each other’s sentences. He comforts me. He loves me. He makes me laugh. And even after twenty years, we still genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Who could ask for more?

I’ll end with a few things that I believe capture us: a short exchange we had the other day, and “then and now” photos. (The “then” photo is probably my all time favorite of us because it’s where it all began–
at Friendly’s in Bloomfield where we met serving ice cream. (How sweet?)

ME: Hon, do you think we’re soul mates?

HIM: No, we’re cell mates.

So happy anniversary to my cell mate, my soul mate, my love, my best friend! How lucky am I?

Categories : journeys in life

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