Today is our tenth wedding anniversary, and I was going to spin some kind of elaborate metaphorical post comparing our marriage to the traditional ten-year anniversary gift, but then I found out that the traditional ten-year anniversary gift is…tin. Or, alternately, aluminum. All I can think of to say about tin (or aluminum) is that it conducts heat well, and it’s recyclable. Oh, and it’s apparently not a good idea to chew on foil if you have fillings in your teeth. Or even if you don’t, one would think.
Ten years ago I was walking down the aisle of my little hometown church. It was hot. It was really, really hot. The organist was, it was discovered a few years later, a pedophile. One of Chris’s groomsmen, and the guy who read the Bible verse (“I am a noisy gong!”), were both at the time our brothers-in-law; now they are just jerks who did our sisters wrong. (It’s fun looking through our wedding album – hey! There’s the molester! Hey! There’s Jerk #1! Luckily, or really not, many of our wedding pictures were stolen when our house was broken into in 2000.) Instead of the more traditional vows, our pastor made us repeat the “I will lodge where you lodge” verse (from the book of Ruth?) – which is lovely, but we couldn’t look one another in the eye because it was also kind of goofy to say “I will lodge where you lodge” to one another. Even though we had the wedding in Texas specifically so many of my friends could be there, none of them showed (LSAT, MCAT, starting new job, planning her own wedding, wimped out for no reason). It was really, really hot.
But, as they say, it’s not the wedding that matters, it’s what follows, and what has followed has been good. (And really, I have very fond memories of our wedding in spite of all that stuff.) Now that we have children we have less time for one another, and that’s unfortunate. I miss the days of snuggling on the couch together, watching Iron Chef and eating ice cream; I miss long quiet afternoons spent drawing and reading and napping together; I miss being able to hug my husband without two little girls running up to say, “No, I want to hug Mommy! She’s my mommy! Let’s do a family hug!” But I’m glad that we’re in this messy, chaotic, disorganized life together; I’m glad that I have one little girl with his blue eyes and another little girl with his big toes and artistic bent; I’m glad, every time I hear him laugh or see him smile, that I’m the lucky one who gets to spend the rest of my days with him. I’m grateful that our bond is strong enough to keep conduct love and understanding even through the bad times, and that our good times are eminently recyclable into happy memories. (Ugh. See, that really doesn’t work at all. Who chose tin? Who decides these things, anyway?)
I love you, Chris. And I will always lodge where you lodge.
Ten years ago I was walking down the aisle of my little hometown church. It was hot. It was really, really hot. The organist was, it was discovered a few years later, a pedophile. One of Chris’s groomsmen, and the guy who read the Bible verse (“I am a noisy gong!”), were both at the time our brothers-in-law; now they are just jerks who did our sisters wrong. (It’s fun looking through our wedding album – hey! There’s the molester! Hey! There’s Jerk #1! Luckily, or really not, many of our wedding pictures were stolen when our house was broken into in 2000.) Instead of the more traditional vows, our pastor made us repeat the “I will lodge where you lodge” verse (from the book of Ruth?) – which is lovely, but we couldn’t look one another in the eye because it was also kind of goofy to say “I will lodge where you lodge” to one another. Even though we had the wedding in Texas specifically so many of my friends could be there, none of them showed (LSAT, MCAT, starting new job, planning her own wedding, wimped out for no reason). It was really, really hot.
But, as they say, it’s not the wedding that matters, it’s what follows, and what has followed has been good. (And really, I have very fond memories of our wedding in spite of all that stuff.) Now that we have children we have less time for one another, and that’s unfortunate. I miss the days of snuggling on the couch together, watching Iron Chef and eating ice cream; I miss long quiet afternoons spent drawing and reading and napping together; I miss being able to hug my husband without two little girls running up to say, “No, I want to hug Mommy! She’s my mommy! Let’s do a family hug!” But I’m glad that we’re in this messy, chaotic, disorganized life together; I’m glad that I have one little girl with his blue eyes and another little girl with his big toes and artistic bent; I’m glad, every time I hear him laugh or see him smile, that I’m the lucky one who gets to spend the rest of my days with him. I’m grateful that our bond is strong enough to keep conduct love and understanding even through the bad times, and that our good times are eminently recyclable into happy memories. (Ugh. See, that really doesn’t work at all. Who chose tin? Who decides these things, anyway?)
I love you, Chris. And I will always lodge where you lodge.
Comments
10th anniversary. And many many more.
Mom
Hope you have many more wonderful years together. :)