Today is my 11 year anniversary. Of my wedding. I know a few posts ago I had an anniversary of weight loss. (I like milestones and celebrations) We have other anniversaries I like to celebrate too. First time he told me he loved me, first time we went on a “real” date, first time we played the piano, the first time we heard this band and the first time we went to a certain movie and so on.
But today is my wedding anniversary. I got married eleven years ago. We made a promise, before God, our families, and friends to love one another. We have kept this promise. Through these years together with births, deaths, sorrows and joys I have loved him. And I know he has loved me.
I look at pictures from that day and we look so young with that dreamy look. We were 23. Babies. We were crazy, madly in love. And still are. It’s just different. We are past that –I can’t sleep because I am so in love with you and I have butterflies-and I can hardly breathe-you hold my every thought-and i missed you when you were gone for five minutes-lets make out at every street corner and hold hands none stop- phase.
I sleep just fine, and he breathes just fine and we hold lots of other thoughts. We rarely make out at street corners, but we have been caught holding hands. I guess our love has matured. In a good way…not like cheese because that is just gross. Aged and matured like certain older celebrities with natural looking botox. We got rid of some toxic elements in our relationship and invited God into our marriage. We learned how to communicate with the help of counseling. (we are both “stuffers” vs. “exploders”…more on that in a later post)
I promised to love my husband. But, I actually like him too. I respect him. He has such a caring soul. He is kind, smart, and makes me laugh. He supports me. I still think he is pretty hot and a good kisser too.
I’ll take that over butterflies anyday.