There is nothing more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.
Homer, The Odyssey
We decide to go to the community garden after supper. It’s a beautiful evening—the most beautiful of the year so far. Rumour has it we’re heading into a week of what spring is supposed to be like. I’ll take it.
Spring fever seems to be finally taking hold. Earlier, when I arrived home from having a pedicure, Gerry was cleaning out the garage while Elvis played on the satellite radio in his car. I dropped my purse and we danced. We’re silly like that sometimes.
”Nineteen years ago on this night we were busy,” my sentimental husband remarks as we head toward the garden.
”And the weather was beautiful then too,” I recall.
Nineteen years ago we were flush with spring fever as we moved the last of his things from his home to mine—everything except a mattress for him to sleep on for one last night, and the suit he would wear the next morning.
On this beautiful evening all these years later, we pay homage to those two crazy kids with our memories. They were, in reality, far from being kids, but they still felt the blush of youth and anticipation on that wedding eve.
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This morning there are roses on my bedside table next to my cup of soy milky frothy coffee and husband challenges my propensity to play down celebrations.
”It’s not just another day,” he tells me. “It’s our anniversary.”
Yes. It is. And I’m so thankful for the gift of a husband who appreciates and honours the occasion, the journey we’be taken together, and the road that lies before us.
Happy Anniversary to us!