Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Eighth Anniversary

Today is my second married anniversary with Spousal Unit. Tonight, we're just having a quiet evening with Harry Potter and a bottle of wine. In ten days, we'll celebrate our eighth anniversary together. So far, it's been nice having two of them; we get to choose which one is more convenient to make a big deal out of, but we can still celebrate both.

This picture is from before we had anniversaries together, but turned out to be the first big thing we celebrated (aside from our month-aversaries).


We're sitting in an old phone booth in my college dorm - the pink fluff sticking out of the wall is where the phone used to hang, presumably. Spousal Unit (then Boy I Liked in the Spring) wasn't even expected to show up that semester - it was September, and he was supposedly in France for four months. But this day, he showed up at the car wash fundraiser my sorority was hosting. I didn't recognize him from the back, with his new haircut, but when he turned, something in me clicked into place.

That was when I realized the summer had done nothing to temper my feelings for him. Crushes in between had been just that, but for him, I felt something different.

Oh crap, I'm in trouble, I thought as I turned away from him. Tears sprung to my eyes at how thrilled I was for him to suddenly be there, and at the intensity of that click in my heart. One of my sorority sisters asked what was wrong, and I mumbled something about how I still liked him.

At this point, we'd only really spent time together at the spring formal dance - the one to which he wore a dress (which is a different story). All the other time together was mostly with other friends, too.

By the end of this brief weekend, we'd shared our first kiss and whispered ideas about what might happen on his return, if neither of us had found someone yet. And while he was gone, I recited this poem to myself, over and over.

Little Elegy by Keith Althaus


Even the stars wear out.
Their great engines fail.
The unapproachable roar
and heat subside.
And wind blows across
the hole in the sky
with a noise like a boy
playing on an empty bottle.
It is an owl, or a train.
You hear it underground.
Where the worms live
that can be cut in half
and start over
again and again.
Their heart must be
in two places at once, like mine.



Those months were nerve-wracking, exciting, and terrifying. But when he came back, our happy ending began.

4 comments:

  1. Congratulations!!!!!!
    *Flailing Kermit arms*

    Ps. LOVE the new blog header!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I am so happy for you two! And I am really glad I met you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Ceci! We're glad too - you're pretty fly. :)

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