When we woke up the next day in our hotel suite, nothing felt different. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that we'd already been together seven years, and living together for the majority of that time. On my hand I now wore a ring, a band of white gold with seven diamonds. Seven years we brewed this marriage, and we were married in the seventh month of the year. On a Friday the 13th, no less. The date did not scare us; it failed to call up any superstition. In seven years we had been through a lifetime's worth of experiences, any one of which was enough to crush us. But we never collapsed. If our marriage wasn't going to last, it would be much more than a number on a certain day of the week that would be its demise.
Big Red is not the perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. There are days he pisses me off or frustrates me to no end. What he is, is perfect for me. Despite whatever shortcomings he has, he is also incredibly hard-working, loyal, affectionate, and honest. He challenges me to be a better person. We remain, to this day, great partners in conversation and never hesitate to talk things out. Our marriage is no storybook, our lives not penned without conflict, but we walk through it all together, each one with the other's back.
At the end of the day, there is no other man I'd want next to me on the big brown couch, no other man I'd want to sit across from at dinner, no other man I'd want to kiss goodnight, no other man I'd want as the father to my children. His hugs engulf me, his friendship lifts me, his love surrounds me.
"...Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be..."
Happy 4th anniversary to us.
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