Year 1
It’s been a year since I said I’d love you forever. I believe that time is simultaneous so it feels like I’ve done this before and this is a bonus ride. A child of divorce, a witness to some bad marriages and worse relationships I was anti-marriage. You smirked when I said that and responded that I just didn’t know good love. You were right. You are always right when it comes to the big truths. I’m always right about directions.
I wasn’t a girl who imagined her wedding. By the time I was old enough to have that dream my parent’s marriage was crumbling and my childhood was soon to follow. I saw most relationships as a hostile battleground filled with nitpicking, resentment, untold grudges, and selfishness.
Then you came.
And I wasn’t sure how to love you right away. You are good and whole. I am pieced together at best. You’ve been sculpted by patient love and consistency, a tiffany vase. I feel like a mosaic made by a color-blind toddler.
No, I couldn’t have imagined our wedding. A crisp and sunny day at my favorite house, an Atlantic beach oasis surrounded by oak trees and our beloved family and friends. I walked dreamily down ivy-covered stairs as you played “Here Comes The Bride” on your favorite electric guitar. I threw my head back in unflattering laughter as our beautiful niece threw rose petals at you. I fought back tears as the first man I ever loved, my father recited our vows and joined us in holy matrimony.
I couldn’t have imagined our beautiful eclectic home with art and instruments on every wall, books on every surface, and too many dogs.
I couldn’t have known that working in my classroom one Sunday as I had so many Sundays would change my life. I remember my curiosity that day at the lights on in the music room. Without reserve or expectations, I opened your door “Hi, what are you doing?”, “Working” you would respond with your eternal coolness. You had company, your beautiful and overly affectionate Husky-Pitbull mix, Willie Nelson. Find me the woman who can say no to loving on a dog with that face and I’ll ask you where her heart is. I sat down on your floor, you sat down too. Criss-cross just like I did with the toddlers in my classroom. I was charmed by this. We started talking about what I can’t exactly remember. But before I knew it 45 minutes had gone by and I could’ve sworn I just sat down. I left a little bewildered and for the rest of the day, you with your unkempt beard, tattoos, wrinkled shirt, and sweet dog parked themselves in my mind.
A few days passed and we were in the breakroom surrounded by teachers and copy machines chattering. The symphony comes up in conversation, the one we will get engaged at in a few years’ time. I tell you I think the symphony is a religious experience. You smile at that. We talk about the farmer’s market near your house. I say, “I think I’m going there this weekend, what’s your number? Maybe we can meet up.” I thought this was subtle. We don’t make it to the farmers market but you ask to meet me for coffee. I wear all black because I think you’re edgy and you’d like that. Now I know black’s your favorite color. See how time is simultaneous.
No, my anti-marriage sentiments couldn’t withstand a love like yours. It was too much. It was too warm. Not marrying you would’ve been like going out into a blizzard without shoes on. Dangerous and silly.
Of all the things that I couldn’t have known and they seem to multiply by the year, I couldn’t have known that being your partner in marriage would be my greatest honor and my most important job.
We’ve decided that good marriages and good lives have themes of maintenance. Maintenance isn’t sexy. It’s not passionate. It’s an oil change. It’s vacuuming the rug. It’s walking the dogs. It’s saying “Thank you for doing the dishes” after I’ve cooked our hundredth meal.
My cynicism reminds me that I’ll most certainly fail at loving you just right sometimes. But when I fail I promise to say “I’m sorry” and mean it. I promise to fix it as best as I can. I’ll make sure to get the oil changed, vacuum the rug, walk the dogs, and say thank you, I love you.
