There is already a problem. And the problem lies in the inadequacies I have in just trying to make this more special than all the other days we’ve had in the past. How can I say it differently? How can I phrase how I feel in words I’ve never written before? There is something to be said for having made it to this point..and yet what could possibly be said?! I feel like unless we shoot a few guns, jump in a hot-air-balloon, and swing through the trees at our nursery with a few orangutangs, nothing will feel good enough. Or as crazy-big and monumentous as I’d like.
Ten years ago today my dream finally came true. I’d not only wanted to be with you since we’d first met in grade three, but for sure, I’d dreamt of marrying you–always being together and growing old. In what has felt like only a short passage of time, we have managed to make it to a mile-marker of our marriage that I had thought was light-years away. Ten years from now seems so far I can’t even begin to think of where we’ll be or what we’ll be doing. My brain cannot process it. But ten years ago? That seems like only yesterday. (This is us. Ten years ago. The night before our wedding.)
And so…even though I failed to plan a life-altering, spectacular 2nd wedding on a private island, with the best wedding vendors in the world (yes, THAT is what I had wanted to do), sharing this day with you will still feel have a similar, electrifying effect. To this day, fireworks, not butterflies, fill my stomach whenever I see you. And every time I look at Eli, I am overcome with so much love it’s painful. Those tears I hold back, the ones that almost strangle my breath, get me every time. I see so much of you in him and it’s amazing.
So here’s to us!! On OUR day. As long as we can hold hands, and as long as you make me laugh until it hurts, today will be the perfect day. The most perfect, firework feeling, orangutang-worthy day.
Oh…and I got to thinking about the number ten. And all of those in-between. How funny/awesome/unique/crazy are these tidbits?
One. YOU. My first love. THE first one. And I landed you.
Two. DOGS. There are two Jack Russel Terriers that live in our house. They have to be the craziest animals on the planet, but they’ve been so good with Eli, I can’t imagine our life without those pups!
Three. BEDS. It took three tries to finally pick out the best, most cozy mattress in the world. But we did it. Yes three failed times in a few weeks. We have yet to find a better night sleep on the planet than the bed that lies in our room.
Four. ICEES. The amount of times this health-conscious duo was buying Icees every week until we decided to buy our own machine. We’ll forget about the part that it’s been broken for a few months and the part where we realize all our healthy choices get thrown out the window as soon as we slurp all that sugary goodness. Still. THAT is pretty awesome.
Five. CARS. Plus ten. A crazy, unbelievable number that represents the vehicles we’ve purchase since we were married. To admit we still own seven is slightly embarrassing. So I’m editing that part out.
Six. APART. The most days we’ve ever spent apart, at once time, since Aug 2, 2003. Although you’d probably disagree, I think it’s six days too long.
Seven. TRAVEL. The length of time in years we waited before we took our first proper vacation. A legitimate three weeks of traveling country to country, soaking in cultures and eating so much food we got fat. Okay well that last part might have just been me, but trust me, there is a LOT of food to be eaten when we travel.
Eight. TIME. Twice that number was significant. It took eight years form the time I fell for you for you to notice me. And eight years into our marriage, we finally took a leap and started a family.
Nine. GROWTH. In year nine, we’ve traveled to nine countries, taking our one year-old baby on seven flights, grown our business(s), expanded our patience, and learned to understand each other in a way I never thought possible. There is no one who “gets me” or communicates with me better. Probably my favorite thing about you.
Ten. YEARS. Or Ten Minutes. I feel like they’re the same. If I woke up tomorrow and someone said we were newly-weds, I’d believe them. And even though a look in the mirror proves we’ve both aged, obtained a few crows-feet, and lost all that “baby” from our cheeks, it hasn’t felt like ten years. I would do it all over again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that if I could.
