Thirty Years

 

Been waiting to write this post, and now that June is nearly over, it’s time.  Thirty years ago this month I met my husband.

But that’s not the end of the story, hehehe.  Lately he and I have been mentioning this to one another: Hey baby, thirty years.  Three decades.  Happy Anniversary (even if we married in February).  Thirty years is a long time, and in part we’re congratulating each other for sticking it out.  But the here and now isn’t merely what we’re celebrating.  It’s also the way back then, which led us to today.

Way back then I’d just turned twenty-one, he was twenty-two.  Way back then he was trying to figure out a way to graduate college while I had just moved out and was reveling in freedom.  Way back then I possessed a host of issues while he was a rare sort to experience heartache.  Way back then….  We were different people to whom we are now, but under all those differences and layers were a couple of souls meant for one another.  It hasn’t always been easy, but every day it’s worth it.

He is why I write love stories, and family saga, ha ha.  He is my best friend, my lover, my life partner, my buddy.  He’s father to my children, grandpa to the nietos, the Bob Dylan to my Michael Stipe; what???  Of course we diverge on a few paths, I’d not love him if he was my exact doppelganger.  But we finish each other’s sentences, start each other’s dialogues, and I truly hope I don’t outlive him.  While we’re together, I try to make the most of it, aware not everyone gets thirty years.

Thirty years feels like a big hurdle crossed, although I didn’t skin my knees to get over it.  Thirty years stands as a demarcation of great joys, some heartaches, a few peace negotiations, and endless comfort.  It’s also a window to the future; will we get another thirty, twenty, ten even?  It’s like being in the middle of my corporeal life with him, whether we live to eighty or not.  We started in our twenties, and now our fifties is the smack-dab center of who we are.  Reaching grandparenthood is a part of it, but we’re young enough to recall our own toddlers, and if someday we entertain great-grandkids by our mere presence, well then the true end is in sight.

But before I get to whatever remains, I’m happy right were I am, in the here and now and thirty years.  I dedicate this post to my hubby, as I dedicate just about all my books.  Without him I can’t even fathom where I’d be, yet with him I have accomplished outstanding feats.  Blessings abound with this fella in my life, and I give thanks to God for all these years, and those to come.

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