I am my lover’s and my lover is mine.
He caresses the sweet-smelling flowers.
Song of Solomon 6:3
Can you believe we’ve been married for eight years? On the one hand, it seems so long — I remember when we first got married, two years seemed like an eternity. On the other hand, it feels so short — in the grand scheme of things, I trust that this will only represent a small fraction of the years we’ll be spending together. Plus, the time has flown by so fast! It seems like only yesterday that we walked down those stairs at Woodinville Alliance, hoping not to trip and fall on our faces. (After which Mr. Anderson spilled punch on my wedding dress, and the stain is still there today. And then on the drive to the Sorrento, the balloons twisted off the Prius’ antenna, which I imagine is somewhere in Lake Washington even now.)
So much has happened in the last eight years, it’s hard to believe. We’ve graduated from college, obtained real jobs, rented apartments, purchased a home, bought a car, and done all sorts of grown-up things. But it’s not the grown-up things that come to mind when I think of our marriage. It’s those other things.
The way we can allude to a quote — not even quote it, just refer to it shorthand — and be on the same page. The way you know a million tiny facts and are ALWAYS RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING, doggone it. The unfortunate orange fish experiment in Year 1. The dismal, expensive basement apartment in Trowbridge Road, our first home. The amazing Christmas Day Dishwasher & Dead Rat Disaster of 2010. The trip where I met you in London, we went to Edinburgh, and then your credit card was canceled because the number was stolen. Riding all the bike trails in Massachusetts (I’m pretty sure a similar feat in Washington is impossible, but I’m game if you are). Your meeting me in halfway and in P-Town at the end of the MS Cape Cod Getaway two years running, back when 75 miles felt like a long way to ride. Backpacking trips on the Appalachian Trail that you endured out of love for me.
Countless hours reading books together on the couch, including the time that glass globe caught a book on fire in the Marlborough apartment. Going for walks and hikes, probably thousands of miles of walking at this point, many of those miles in snow or rain. Watching Smallville and howling over how awful it was, but still watching it. Watching MST3K for the first time with you. Two fabulous, relaxing, luxurious train rides in place of airplane flights. Innumerable flights from Boston to Seattle and back, especially the one where we were delayed by snow on both ends, but happily it was the only time we’d ever sprung for first class seats, so it wasn’t bad. You teaching me to play cribbage and me winning occasionally! …And trying to play Set with you, but never winning. Ever. Playing strategy games that I have no real hope of winning, but enjoying because we’re together. Food flare-ups in the toaster oven, “a sensation altogether new to me.”
So many small moments that, added together, produce our life together. Ian, I would not be who I am today without you. I am so glad you are in my life, and I can hardly wait to spend the next years with you, laughing, loving, learning together… and, of course, making an interocitor. I love you.