Half my life ago, I married my husband.
That sentence will become true next August. I did the math: late in August, there will come a day when I will have been married just as long as I was single. And then, the day after that, I will have been married the majority of my life.
It’s strange to think about. Stranger still to think back to our wedding day. We were young and hopeful and smiling. Me, the poet, marrying him, the musician: the perfect blend, we hoped, of lyric and melody.
We knew, back then, that I was the one for him. That he was the one for me. And we said as much in our vows, standing in a chapel in front of our family and friends. We knew love. We knew trust. We knew that whatever the next years held, we wanted to enter them together.
We knew so much. And at the same time, so little. There were so many things we didn’t know. How could we, until we lived them?
I’m blogging this week over at the Flatirons Women’s Community Blog. Click here to read the rest of this post: Half My Life…