I wrote the following back in January while we were planning our recent move, but decided to save it for our anniversary. Twelve years ago today we were married.
It seems both a moment and a lifetime ago.
“What are you two, the poster children for marriage?”
This question was posed to us by an acquaintance, years ago, after we were first married. Apparently we had shocked him with an exchange where we managed to ask a question, answer a question and both use terms of endearment while doing so. Apparently, done with the right amount of respect, affection and loving looks it can really shock the crowd. Who knew?
And we were kind of the poster children back then. We had put a lot on the line when we got together, a crazy whirlwind of a late night talk, one unexpected declaration and a resulting impulsive decision (no, not that impulsive decision, tsk tsk). We had gone from friends with an unidentified connection to a “we” over the course of 24 hours. We went from zero to “what kind of jam do you like?” at the grocery store in three days. Heads rolled, most people questioned us and our “crazy” decision, but we knew we had something worth taking a risk for. People knew we weren’t fooling around…we had made a commitment, and it mattered. That was fifteen years ago, and no one questions it now. But back then? We had a rep to protect.
We worked hard at being a team, though things were never perfect and we argued as much or more than anyone else we knew. But we had an unwritten code…never in public. Oh, sure we’d disagree; we’d even argue in front of close friends…they knew we were the same as anyone else. But we decided early on that we didn’t want to be the couple fighting at the restaurant while the rest of the table squirmed. We tried to treat each other with respect, and tried to make sure the other person didn’t lose face in front of others. We also agreed on all the big issues, and both knew in the end we only fought about the little things.
Nearly twelve years later, we are no longer children, but remember the comment. At first it was a joke, something to giggle about. Later it became a reminder of what we had been, a way of making sure we weren’t getting too far from our roots together. We still bring it up now and again, sort of a gentle nudge to make sure we remember the days when our exchanges contained more terms of endearment and loving looks than grocery lists and itineraries.
I’d say we’re still on the poster. The poster has gotten a little banged up over the years; I’m sure at least partly due to all the moves we have made together. The corners are dented, and there are at least one or two wrinkles. But we’re moving again and the poster is coming with us. I’m shopping for a house with just the right spot to put it.
