Your hair had just a rare strand of gray in it and I still had a baby face six years ago.
Six years ago today, the 24th of February in 2008, you were snowbound in Maine and you asked me to marry you. Before you asked, you were so nervous you shook and I was so scared I couldn’t stop talking, because you had been so weird the whole weekend, I thought you were breaking up with me. I thought if I didn’t stop talking, you would never get around to telling me that you were done.
And we have both come so far in six years, further than we probably ever imagined.
My firm, unwavering resolve to never argue with you only lasted two months and when I finally did break that resolution it was a doozy of a spat and I knew I had really done it when you raised your voice. (I swear, I think I can count on one hand the amount of times you have “taken a tone”, as they say. I have never again entertained the idea of telling you that you are pouting like a baby.)
That September the hormone medication did a crazy number on me, you endured hormones with the gallantry of a knight, getting down on the kitchen floor to hug your completely irrational wife. (By this time you knew better than to say anything, especially not… “It’s going to be ok.”)
We cried together over a little green “I Love Mommy” onesie and just knowing that you shared my grief made all the difference in the world.
You worked long hours and went without adequate sleep far too many days and on top of it, endured the strain of my complaining too (“I never see you anymore”… “Do you really have to work such long days?”).
You ate burnt food sometimes and I learned to forgive underwear behind the bathroom door and annoying splatters on the bathroom mirror.
You rubbed my feet more times than I can count and I tucked cheesy sticky notes in your lunchbox.
Marriage is nothing like I imagined.
It is far, far, far harder than I ever could have possibly dreamed.
There are no castles in the clouds.
No “Little House on the Prairie”.
Most definitely no fairy-tale.
And I love you more for being my reality, than being my dream.
We think we know what love is and what love looks like and what love says, but the truth is that we don’t have a clue. True love is far deeper than any fantasy we could ever fabricate. Long after the stars fade and the dreams collide with the reality of being two human people living in a really broken world –
The stars are gone from my eyes, but my eyes still shine.
And I only love you more.
The very words scripted on our barn-board head-frame.