Another Year

We’ve never gotten the hang of selfies.
We’ve never learned how to colour co-ordinate our clothes on a regular basis.
We don’t have a “couple name”.
We don’t always finish each other’s sentences and sometimes we have NO idea what the other is thinking.

We don’t write on each other’s walls.
We never post pics of entwined fingers or feet in Instagram-worthy humblebrags of our escapades and expeditions.
I have no idea what the last thing he ate looks like, and he’s probably never seen any of my WHICH CITY SHOULD YOU LIVE IN or WHAT COLOUR IS YOUR AURA results.

I know which articles he’s read online today because I get several of them, sent to me in email threads that dance just between us two- some articles for things he’s interested in, some he thinks I might love (they rarely overlap).
I know that in every email and every Whatsapp message he sends there will be an “I love you.”
I know he thinks I’m beautiful because whenever he looks at me, his eyes still melt into that liquid love look they wore from the very beginning of us . In his eyes are the secrets for every unwanted pound, and skin or hair issue. They say: what issue? You look perfect to me. And I like that.

He knows I love him, because I never stop telling him.
He knows I think he’s gorgeous, and that my heart still skips when I see him.
He sees me blush, still, when he winks at me from across a room.
He knows I listen, because for this Financial man I married, I have learned to follow basic mathematical terms and basic addition (this is very super awesome big deal).
He knows I believe in him to the degree that won’t ever let him get comfortable with where he’s at because there’s so much more ahead.
He knows I respect him, because I won’t roll my eyes, snark or ‘passive-aggressive’ my way through the real issues that must arise in any marriage. I won’t talk badly about him to my family or friends. I won’t overthrow his position because “THIS way would be better”. Even if it would. Because it takes the two of us to run this family, and that doesn’t actually mean me AND myself. It took me a long time to learn that lesson, but I did it. For him. For us.

We know how to argue productively, so that we never doubt the worth of each to the other, the weight of one issue over another, the strength of one passion against the other.
We know how to apologize.
We know how to laugh. At ourselves, at each other, at our kids, with the overwhelming joy of our lives, and even through the crushing blows.
We know how to pray.
We know how to cuddle.
We know that sometimes date nights doesn’t always need to be more than tired mommy and tired daddy snuggled on a couch in front of a movie that may or may not get watched, shedding parental titles to become besties and true loves again, even just seconds before completely knocking out.

We know there’s nothing one could need that the other wouldn’t go to the ends of the world to provide.
We trust.
We trust.
We trust.
We choose time and time again to forgive. To forget. To laugh. To forgive.


To trust.
My heart is in a safe space when it’s in his hands.
His heart has no fear from mine.

Somehow, without the social media trappings that seem to provide irrefutable proof of What is Real, we built a life we never want to leave.

It’s not easy, loving with the kind of love that makes it okay to let go, to freefall.
But somehow…some magical how….
We did it.

Happy Anniversary, husband.
Let’s keep ‘em comin’



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