The Best Parts of Marriage with You
It’s been nine years. Year one still carries the scent of baked potatoes and cheap apartment life. Of emptied change jars and afternoon naps for no reason at all. If years two and three unraveled in nomadic dreams in a rusty old Airstream, fighting to make something big of our tiny worlds, then years four and five were for making room and finding roots amidst spit up stained pants and sleepless nights. By years six and seven we were finding our footing and our place in the world made evident by a college diploma and a steady paycheck. And years eight and nine were surely for shaking us out of our comfort zones with the addition of a tiny force whose temperament matches his fiery blond curls.
A lifetime of traveling and growth and beauty all crammed into a little under a decade finds me scrolling reminiscently through years of old pictures on my phone.
As an avid list-maker, I revel in any occasion to compile all the ways I’ve grown from and been blessed by this marriage over the years. Let’s take a stroll down memory lane for one little moment.
The best parts of marriage, as told by a very imperfect and grateful wife:
the moments of spontaneity that force me out of my indecisiveness—the time we opted for one more day at Disneyland, that long drive before kids just to see where the highway ended, moving the mattress in the loft for an impromptu movie night, and a million other little moments.
The rhythms and traditions we’ve created that always give us something grounding to look cling to. Thursday night dates, Saturday sabbath, Friday night movie night and walks to Hey Sugar for after dinner treats, meals around the table, worship as a family.
Fighting for connection and intimacy amidst learning how to be parents. Our love for one another is one of the very best gifts we could offer our children in a world so tumultuous and disconnected.
Praying together every night before we do anything else. The commitment to grow spiritually and pursue Christ. To be whole and healthy both individually and together.
The trips we’ve taken and stories we’ve lived to tell because we said yes to adventure. Road trips, early morning flights, mountain sunrises, afternoon tides, big city glimmering lights and tiny hallmark towns covered in snow.
The dreams we’ve helped one another pursue—my degree, my writing, my desire to run a marathon. His music. Always his music. We are each others greatest advocate when it comes to pursuing the thing that makes us come alive and we don’t take that responsibility lightly.
The quiet evenings we spend together after boys go to bed, catching up, dreaming, praying, snuggling, vegging out. Just being together.
The laughter. Goofy impersonations, random dance parties in the kitchen, inside jokes, that time I tried to do a no handed push up, always always always trying to make one another laugh because life is far too serious and grim otherwise.
The people we do life with. My parents next door. Evenings around the fire pit. Prioritizing our life group. Trips with friends because “we’re grownups and we can do what we want” as I always say.
And a million other things. But nine feels fitting for nine years with you.
