Sunday, July 8, 2012

Tinsnips and Love Coupons.

10 years is a real long time.  It's a decade.  It's, well... 10 whole years.  It's interesting that the gift associated with a 10 year wedding anniversary is tin.  I mean... Tin?  I guess we could have bought a lot of cans of beer and drank them.  (Yeah, baby...)  But, we didn't.  We planned on going on a romantic date, just the two of us.  But, we didn't.  We planned on renewing our vows on the beach.  But, sigh... we didn't.

A romantic place for an anniversary

We spent the day and evening with our twins.  We went to the Dairy Joy, in Bellows Falls, Vermont, for dinner.  Michael and Stella came with us.  That's just the way things go.  We visited my grandmother, our favorite woman in the entire world, on our anniversary and then went to the Dairy Joy.  I ate a cheeseburger and fried dough. I got a stomach ache. It was good.  Whatever.

We left for a week-long trip to Maine two days later.   I had this amazing cream colored, pleated Silk chiffon dress to wear on the beach.  It was the perfect dress to wear to run into waves, and get all wet...  Full of joy.  It sat in the closet of our rental cottage, and now It's in my closet at home.  I'll never wear it.  It's really beautiful.  The perfect beach wedding dress.

You know, 10 years seemed like a good time to renew the vows of wedlock.  We've been through a lot, and it would have been good for us.  But, we didn't.  My dress traveled to Maine with us, for our vacation, then came back home, unworn.

And so, on our 10th wedding anniversary, we drank champagne in our yard.  I was wearing lime green sweat shorts from Old Navy.  That's okay.

Does it really matter?

Sam worked all day and I spent the day with the kids.  That was okay too.

But, what I really mean is, it wasn't completely okay.  I needed something special.  At the time, I desperately needed to say, "And we did."

And I realized that a moment passed that we can  never get back.  And maybe this symbolizes my life and who I am now.  No moments will be especially significant, all moments will blend together?  We won't have anyone to celebrate with us, or let us celebrate as a couple... Alone?  Does it really matter, how we celebrate?  Is it just important that we are a team, this little family, and we do things together?  Maybe that's all we have;  all we really, really have:  Each other.  That's all.  And that has to be okay.