Two Years

It wasn't everything I dreamed of. We were doing things in a pseudo-traditional/pseudo-untraditional manner. I wore the dress and you wore the suit, we exchanged rings, and we were married. But no one gave me away (shudder), no one changed their name, and no one expected that Dostoevsky reading from Crime and Punishment. At one point, I saw you sitting out there on the front porch all alone and I wanted nothing more than to be with you at that moment, but others would not let me leave to go to you. I am sorry I left you there. I am sorry you were stressed out about delivering the flowers. I am sorry that these little things left you drained before our day had even really begun.

But it was our day. We publicly declared our love. We cut the cake, we danced, we smiled until our faces hurt, and we didn't murder any of our extended family. It was a success by our measure of success.

That was two years ago. In many ways it seems so long ago. In many ways it seems like yesterday. We got married when things were uncertain. Our path seemed windy and out of control. Sometimes I think it still is uncertain, I think we're still struggling to see past the curve in the road, I think we're idling in one place.

But we're not. And in another two years we're going to look back on this day and realize how far we've come. Until then, we will live this day to day and love this day to day. Because right now I am so happy that I get to come home to you, that you are the one who wakes up beside me, and that we have this time be newly married together.