ME: I was really in a quandary, because I had this awesome present for you for our anniversary, but it’s so cool I thought I should keep it for Christmas.
JIM: Nah, keep it for anniversary.
ME: *long look at him* Wow. I really can read your mind.
JIM: What?
ME: This must be marriage. I can tell exactly what you’re thinking right now.
JIM: What am I thinking?
ME: You’re acting calm but you’re in a state of slow panic because you just realized our anniversary is in a week and you haven’t bought me a present yet.
JIM: Heeew.
ME: *giggles uncontrollably* I can’t believe it! I really can read your mind.
JIM: I’m sorry.
ME: Oh please, I’m just laaaaaghing my ass off over here.
Never fear for poor Jim, he managed to scramble something together. And it was lovely. The first anniversary may be paper, but earrings work just as well. For my part, I managed to acquire a print of a castle painting autographed by the artist, because we still seem to be living a fairytale.
I must admit a little shock that it's been a year since we got married. It doesn't seem that long, honestly. The wedding was such a delight, so much fun surrounded by my friends and family, and such a wonderful, joyful celebration... Honestly, I'd be tempted to do it again and again if only to see all my people in one place. My lovely bridesmaids were calling it "ElizabethCon" by the end of the weekend, which cracked me up.
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| So did this picture. |
For a year, Jim and I have been husband and wife. Both of us have been here before, and it wouldn't really be fair to run comparisons between what marital life was like with our previous spouses and how it's different now. There really isn't a comparison.
I've taken a lot of ribbing over the past few years about my decision to marry Jim, given my repeated statement of "better dead than wed." As I've explained before in this space, I was initially very resistant, but Jim made a good case. I asked him - out of exasperation, frankly - to give me a solid reason why we should marry that didn't have anything to do with tradition or what anybody else thought.
He said that marriage is a deeper intimacy than simply living together, and he wanted to share that with me.
Jim was right. (See, I can say it.)
Our marriage seems to grow closer with time, and we truly do share everything. (Well, except avocado. Mitts off.) As Mr. Negative Nellie likes to say, we've had our struggles. Usually when he's being Eeyore the pessimist and I'm forced to tickle him until he sees things my way. There are times when he simply confuses the bejesus out of me. He's... male.
You can't encapsulate a year in a blog post, because there are too many things to cover and you inevitably leave something out. Some years are harder than others, and any year when you bury a parent qualifies as a rough one. But we weathered it, as we weathered my health problems, yet another book tour and the assorted challenges of raising kids and being quasi-poor.
Apparently it is necessary to say these things because otherwise no one would believe we are living some kind of fairytale. And we aren't. If it were a fairytale, he'd replace the toilet paper tube when it's empty.
He's my partner in everything, whether it's our co-parenting, our writing, our volunteer work, or any of the challenges and projects that come with life. He's the one I can hug when the day has been long, and then make the Walking Dead zombie growl against his neck and make him jump for the ceiling. He brings me a cup of coffee every morning without fail, and that seems like a small thing, but it isn't. It's kindness and consideration, thinking of the other before yourself. And that's damn rare. That's love, in its purest form.
Intimacy. Partnership. They're words, hard to portray in a way that makes sense to anyone who isn't us. It's looking at a stunning view while driving over the Cumberland Mountains and knowing it would be that much more beautiful if he were beside me. It's hearing some exciting news and it's only real, only important, once I've told him. It's standing beside him, hand in hand, feeling his pain and wishing I could take it from him, just lessen it a little. It's waiting for that final grade, and smiling as he exclaims with joy (and always, always surprise, boggling the mind) when it's another A. It's fretting, worrying, maybe nagging just a little (he drinks far too much soda for a man with his blood pressure).
Life together. It's different. "Husband" is just a word, but it's also a concept, and he embodies it entirely for me. I don't know if that makes any sense - he is far better at expressing his emotions than I am, and I don't know that I can truly wrangle the words so that they make sense to others.
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| Perhaps that's why this is my favorite of the wedding photos. |
I remember in our premarital counseling sessions, our priest told us that he does not marry us. The marriage is something we make together, a living covenant we weave together, and the church blesses that covenant via the priest. That connection grows stronger the longer we are together, and so it is with a certain surprise that I look back and realize how long we have been together, and how short it still seems.
Jim and I made a promise to each other long before we exchanged vows. Both of us know we found each other later in life, and we know how precious our life together is. We both promised to take good care of ourselves, so that we will have as many years together as God and fate allow. That means taking care of each other, loving and cherishing each other, and so far, we're doing our best.
It's different. It's exciting. It's beautiful. And along with my son, the best surprise of my life.
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| One year and counting. |
