This last week David and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. Being the two wild animals we are, we went to IHOP. He ordered the crepes and I had pancakes. While we waited for our order, I spotted two state troopers at a nearby table. I went over, introduced myself and my profession, and asked about their firepower. As a result, one of them showed me his TASER, which charged with this HUGE crackling sound. David says the whole restaurant came to a screeching halt. I didn't notice. I was enthralled.
The server put our food on the table, wagged a finger at me and asked David, "Is that YOUR wife?"
Yep. And David thought it was funny, really funny.
I love him. My husband is a great guy. I don’t know how I could love him more. He’s my best friend. Every morning when I come down the stairs, he pauses and does this silly little head-cocked grin at me. “Who goes there?” he says. And we both laugh. It's our ritual. Of course he knows who the sleepy-head is. Guilty!
Then he fixes me coffee--with his latte machine that weighs a ton and sounds like a jet plane-- and we begin our day. The rituals of our life set my course, starting each new day with familiarity and love.
It’s been 25 years. Hard to believe. We’ve changed some since our wedding. I’m thicker around the middle, and I can see my face aging. He tells me that I'm beautiful. His hair is turning silver at the temples and he has crinkles around his eyes, which I love. I’m happy about those changes. I married a young man and now I live with a grown-up man. He’s all the world to me. He’s the first person I call when something good happens, and when I need advice (which he’s full of!), and when I need help. To me, he’s like the oak tree at the bottom of our hill…as the years go on, he seems stronger and more stately. (And maybe, well, we’re both a little nuts.)
He’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met.
He knows me better than anyone else does. And he loves me anyway.
The sign was right: Age creates beauty. I am thankful for the years we’ve had together, and I hope to be blessed with many, many more.
Next Monday I'll tell you about the wolf sanctuary I visited on Bays Mountain, near Kingsport, Tennessee. (I had a howling good time!)