seven years of this
and he still puts up with me
and does the laundry
Seven years ago at this very moment I was at the beauty parlor getting a mess of tiny flowers practically surgically attached to my curls. And then a few hours later I was at a small white church, standing in front of friends and family with the man I love, waiting for a train whistle to stop so we could hear our vows.
And now here we are. Today will be a fairly uneventful anniversary – he’s working, I’m at home with the wee one, feeling grumpy because of the cold, and I already know I’m going to be too tired to cook a fancy dinner tonight. But I did (shhh!) buy us tickets to the Coldplay concert in Dallas next weekend. And I did (shhh!) book us a night at a shmancy hotel next weekend. So nice dinner be damned, I have good plans up my sleeve.
I’ll be happy if we can just sit together tonight and reflect on everything we’ve done in seven years – the magnificence of the wee one, a nice house with colorful walls, the Gestator, not strangling the dog, not strangling each other. We’ve done well. And I love him so much. Almost as much as Coldplay, even.