Today is our wedding anniversary. As much as we lament the lack of tradition in the life we share, we are not tradition people. When we married, we went to a JP and a cab driver was our witness. It’s Sunday, my husband left for work an hour ago. It is unlikely that there will be any hoopla later. We tucked into the cake, I had made at our extraordinary local bakery, last night. I’m glad I had the restraint to order just a single layer.
Our earliest anniversaries were more celebrated occasions. Those events were no more special than these are and some of them were more extravagant than necessary. There is no material item I want or need, which is something my husband insists can’t be true. Possibly because he would welcome just ONE more fishing rod. I used to believe that he should want to mark the historically significant days in our lives because it would be fun and he’d have the great delight of surprising me.
I do have lovely surprises he has given me and we have gradually made a comfortable home. I may, or may not, receive a card purchased at a convenience store on his way home from work this afternoon. The things I hope to receive on our anniversary are things that can’t be bought, continued good health and the ability to remain independent, in caring for one another, until death do us part. As people in enduring, committed relationships the world over will attest to, some years are better than others. We talk all the time, not always nicely and sometimes in loud voices, we laugh often and we apologize quickly.
In the words of Joe Cocker- “…I think I’ve come to see myself at last, and I see the time spent confused was the time that I spent without you…” I am grateful that we two are us.