to my husband, on the occasion of our sixth wedding anniversary

14Jun08

Dear Hubba,

I know our anniversary isn’t until tomorrow, but I’m hoping I’m going to be too busy with you then to write anything of significance. I don’t know what we’re going to do tomorrow but I don’t really care anymore, so long as we get to do it together. I don’t have a card for you, or a gift, either. It’s lame, perhaps, but this letter will be my gift.

When we got together in May 2000, I had no faith in or love of myself because of my divorce, and while I wasn’t giving up on love, I wasn’t expecting much either, to tell the truth. You think you’ve got everything down, and then suddenly, just like that, your world can be turned upside down.

That’s why every now and then, I turn to you and hold your sweet face in my hands and look searchingly into your eyes and say, “Holy shit, dear. Can you believe we’ve been together now for EIGHT years? And that we still love each other? And that we’re still attracted to each other? Can you believe that we’re actually still excited to see each other when you come home from work? That it actually keeps getting better instead of fizzling out? WOW!!”

And I’m serious. I’m truly amazed that two people can stay together, be best friends, annoy each other sometimes but still grow in love and friendship and remain interested in each other for as long as they do. It’s kind of weird, I know, but my first failure and those of countless others make me appreciate us all the more. It’s exciting to think we’re beating the odds. And most of the time it doesn’t even feel as though we’re trying. It comes easily.

Six years ago, on a rainy day in June, we were married under a tent in your parents’ backyard gardens. What a fun day that was! I wouldn’t have had it any other way, and how many brides can say that? Stress-free, fun, lots of laughter: when someone told me to go back and start my little procession over because she wasn’t ready with the camera; as trains drowned out the minister; when my sister had to run inside for what she thought was a lost wedding band when it was on her thumb the whole time; and surrounded by just our immediate families, enjoying a barbecue and beer. It was a good day, and why I keep that photo of us kissing under the tent near my desk here, the one the kids drove off to Wal-Mart to have developed and framed so they could give it to us before we’d even changed out of our clothes and into shorts. Today, we still love to be comfortable like that, outdoors and casual. I write this as you create our own gardens now outside, and you have just come in, leaned down to kiss me, and said you have a fantastic idea for an archway. (Of course I hid this from you. I love that you have no idea.)

Although I’m grateful for you every day, for your enthusiasm and love, anniversaries are a good time to reflect on the past years of our marriage. I think back to when we first started, everything we’ve been through, and how far we’ve come. I think of when we first got Lucy, buying our first house, having to sell that house and move back into an apartment, our first camping trip and subsequent others, our lack of plans every single year for an anniversary celebration because we’re content enough to order pizza and get movies together. I think of frustrations and the one major fight we’ve had. I think of starting over and how somehow everything was stronger and more meaningful than before, which to me is simply miraculous. Without consciously doing it, we took our marriage then to the next step. (Whenever we’re feeling stagnant, let’s have another colossal fight and then make up, okay? Hahaha! Just kidding.) I think of the special things we’ve done for each other as surprises. I remember the times I’ve been frustrated with your communication skills but also the times I’ve been speechless and crying over the perfect cards and things you’ve written me, far better than I could ever come up with to show you how much you mean to me, or the times you’ve said nothing at all and just pulled me to you. Communication, I’ve found, is not just about blurting everything I feel. It’s so often much more powerful when it’s not spoken at all. With you, I’ve learned to read the silence.

Do you ever wonder why I love you? Let me answer.

Because you are patient, kind, sympathetic, understanding. Because you would do anything for anyone, even drive five hours just to go to their wedding. I love you because you are sensitive. Because you are vulnerable. Because you are intelligent beyond what I could ever hope for myself. Because you love Lucy and all other animals, and because you love this planet and its people and are not judgemental. I love you because in your quest for knowledge you are open to changing and improving yourself. Thus, I love who you are becoming. I love you because you accept people as they are. Because you want to heal them and care about them being happy. I love you because when you’re gardening and you see a worm, you say, “Oh! Worm!” and gently move it aside so it doesn’t get hurt. Because you cry when animals die or are abused (maybe you don’t want people to know that…). I love you because you went vegetarian first to support me and then for your own reasons. I love you because you do things you know will make me happy, like cut me lilacs and bring them to my office in a vase, or surprise me mid-rant by hugging me. There’s no place like home when my head is resting on your chest. I love you because you love so many of the same things I do, like watching movies and eating pizza, like going for hikes and shopping. I love you because you can stay in Shopper’s Drugmart for as long as I do without getting upset. (I’ve seen you smell the products too!) I love you because you stick up for me. Because you will engage in conversation with me or look at something or listen to me read, even if it doesn’t interest you. I love you because you indulge me. I love you because you balance me out. Whereas I’m high-strung, you’re calm. Where I am weak, you’re strong. Where I am lacking, you fill in. I won’t say you complete me, because that’s just cheesy and also untrue, but I will say you are everything I want in a husband. I couldn’t and wouldn’t ask for more. Isn’t that utterly amazing? I think so. What’s even more amazing is that you and I weren’t always like this. We’ve developed into this and we keep developing alongside each other, not stuck to each other but going in the same direction.

We’ve come a long way, baby. Cheers to our future! I love you. Now and — speaking freely for my ninety-nine-year-old self — for always.

Happy anniversary!

Wifey

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