Tomorrow will be six years since the day I met my love. We’ve spoken about it for the last few weeks – “can you believe it’s six years since the day that changed our lives forever?”
We wanted to go to a nice dinner; my sister is babysitting – but none of the restaurants that made the “best of” lists seemed to get either of us excited. Somehow the food was trying to upstage the occasion. We just wanted to be together – out in the streets of New York City – walking, eating, laughing – experiencing our city together. New York City has always been our romantic backdrop and our soundtrack; we just wanted to dive back into it.
After careful consideration and great recommendations, we decided to celebrate by going on a regular date – one just like the many that made up our six years. We’re going to have sushi and see The King’s Speech. It’s the last of the Oscar movies that we really wanted to see before the Award Show on Sunday. Our usual Oscar tradition involves seeing all of the candidates before the show – but with the baby and limited babysitting, we only saw about half (Inception is on our CD shelf opened, but unwatched).
Like all writers, I write in my head all day long, and especially at night when I’m falling asleep and in the shower. There are things I write in my head and never write down – and other things that form in my head for months before I finally write them down. I’ve known that my anniversary was coming up – and have thought about writing a blog post worthy of the occasion.
But the day is tomorrow and yet the words don’t seem ready. I wait for a unique spark to start what I want to express into words – but words just jumble up into invisible romantic thought bubbles above my head. I’ve said it all before. On past anniversaries; on birthdays; even on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to think of something unique to say – but I just wasn’t born a country singer.
How many times can I tell him that he changed my life? That he saved my life altogether? How many times can I tell him that he not only escorted me to a place of light and love, but did so often with a screaming bitch pulling his arm backwards. How can I tell him that he always saw the man behind the clown just like he always saw the girl behind the woman. How can I thank him for the laughter?
Our whole relationship has often been surreal, it’s no wonder our life together is exactly the piece of art we created. But I am in awe daily at the place to which we’ve gotten. I’m proud of our commitment and our passion; I’m proud of our growth and our creation. The future is exciting rather than frightening.
The other day we were having a serious conversation with my 8-year-old and I told him that what I wish for him, other than a healthy life, is for him to find love like I have. Because choosing your partner in life is the most important decision you will make.
It’s not like my life began when we met six years ago – that’s just when the best years of my life began. The days that went on fast-forward when all I wanted was to hit pause. Six years ago was the day I found the droplet of hope that made me believe in being in love. To say he was the rainbow after the rain is a cliche; he was more like the crayons that filled in the lines to my flat world. When complete love enters your life, it’s like you enter a new dimension, where life is better, sweeter, happier. It’s just like you found your missing piece … and you can roll!