On Monday, it will be 20 years since the day Eric first asked me to "go out" with him. I sit here today, listening to our kids alternately bickering and laughing over a video game and Eric working on the house. It is a normal Saturday around here. A normal Saturday in this life we have made together.
I can look around my living room and see pictures of us from those early years, our wedding day, places we have been, our children growing up in framed still-life. I am awed at the time that has passed and the fact that somehow, from age 14, we have managed to stick it out. How lucky are we?
Eric told me the other day that this anniversary doesn't really matter, it's the marriage that has been the good stuff and should be celebrated. But I disagree. I think those 7 years we had before we got married were filled with good stuff, too. They are what got us to where we are today. I'm proud of them, as well.
I've had more "I love you's" and incredible moments in my life than should be allowed. I've never had to wonder who I could turn to. I've never had to look further than Eric for endless support, guidance and unconditional love. Many times, I've reflected on the path of my life and the series of events that lead my family to Bainbridge Island and me to Eric. If this hadn't happened, or that hadn't been said... The hand of fate was most definitely on my side.
We haven't had all happiness. When life threw us curveballs, we juggled them, not always gracefully. We've stood side-by-side at cemetaries. We've looked over one another in hospital beds. We've fought over work schedules and money and family and diaper changing. I've called him every name in the book (usually during those midnight, sleepless, newborn months), but I can't say the same for him. Eric has been my even keel on this 20 year trip. I don't keep my cool the way he does. I envy that in him, it sucks to have an argument with someone who refuses to dip to your level.
Maybe that doesn't sound like a love letter, but it's the times that put you through the wringer and you still come out the other side together, holding hands that count. I'm proud of that, too.
For many years, I could say I didn't realize the time that was passing, that I still felt 18. I don't feel 18 anymore, I see the wrinkles forming on my forehead, the distinguished looking white hair on Eric's temples. I don't mind it anymore, these things mark the passing of time. It is time we have been lucky enough to spend together.
When you put on miles, you wear down the tread a bit, that's they way it goes. And there's no one I'd rather travel with.
Thanks for these 20 years, Eric. You've made, and continue to make, my dreams come true.
