To a man 27 years my senior. That's right. We got married when I was 24 so that means that as of June 24, I have now been married half of my life. Yikes. That sounds so finite.
Sure there have been sacrifices. He has had to put up with my rushing through the good stuff, missing out on some of the best moments with our children, impatiently trying to get somewhere, while he savored and appreciated every moment.
And there were times when being a caregiver got old. But he didn't complain when he had to come home from work at lunch time to give me shots and hook up my IV during one turbulent pregnancy.
And the travel got old. But he has been the steady source of unwavering support through all of those job changes and long-distance commutes. He has smiled as I followed my every whim, never questioned my outings with friends, never complained about my terrible housekeeping skills, and never openly wondered what I was thinking when I made this decision or that. And he has always complimented my cooking. Even burnt toast. He claims that he really likes burnt food.
He is a coffee drinker and I prefer Diet Coke. That sort of sums it up. It is hard to gulp down your coffee while running on to the next thing. Diet Cokes are made for gulping and going.
And now it seems that my Diet Cokes are becoming more hot tea, his cups of coffee are finding cups with lids and we are meeting in the middle more often. We are taking the time to remember what it was that made us think this crazy relationship would actually survive and we are enjoying it.