Eight years ago we had no idea what it really meant. We vowed to spend the rest of our lives together, but had little concept of the fact that "the rest of our lives" would (hopefully) be over three times the years we'd lived so far.
It's public because I want to surprise you when you check your computer, but really it's just for you. So keep reading.
Eight years ago I had no idea how quickly my "stuff" would mingle with yours, both becoming ours. How our dreams would join together and become our goals. How important your support would become. How easy it would be to slip into long late night conversations, rendering us both bitchy every morning.
Eight years ago I couldn't have imagined spending our fifth anniversary fighting about a mop (sort of). I couldn't have imagined spending anniversary six in a hotel room, grateful as much for the uninterrupted sleep as for the uninterrupted sex. Eight years ago I certainly couldn't have imagined spending our eighth anniversary at a PTA meeting with our 4-year-old son between us and our unborn baby girl kicking my bladder every few minutes.
I had no idea how many small conversations would later become inside jokes. Or how excited I would be in a large group, when your eyes find mine. I certainly had no idea you would be so fun to dance with.
Eight years ago I had no idea how much a dripping faucet could annoy you. How much I'd hate it when you got to bed before me. How often I snored (supposedly). I had no idea how to make macaroni and cheese OR fries...apparently.
I had no idea we could create a little person. Or that we'd even create two of them. I didn't know that my fierce and overwhelming love for our children would make my love for you even greater.
Eight years ago I didn't know that I would have enough strength to let you see me at my weakest. Or that no matter how much I worried about what I wanted to say, you would understand. I didn't know we would grow together so well.
Eight years ago I had no idea what it really meant. And I have no idea today what comes next. At sixteen years I'll see how ignorant I was at eight years. At fifty years I'll see how much we've grown and changed.
At eight years, I do know this: I love you. I love you so much that it still brings tears to my eyes in its intensity. I love you enough to write it here (spray paint seems tacky, skywriting too expensive). I love you because of the life we've got and because of our future. I love you in the mornings, I love you when I bitch, I love you when you're slamming the front door. I love you enough to drink Pepsi and I love you more than Dr. Phil or Josh Holloway.
I love you. I thank you for this life so far. And for whatever comes next. Happy Anniversary.
Posted by Becky at September 27, 2005 10:04 AM