I just finished a letter to a dear friend living in Southern France. As I sat outside reminiscing about two years of marriage on paper, I realized a few things.
Sometimes its hard: After years I think that I know him perfectly, and that I can assume. I don’t, and I can’t.
But usually, marriage is fun: Living with your best friend calls for lots of laughter and unlimited inside jokes. It means giggling under the covers and having a date every Friday. It means evening bike rides, morning kisses, and footsies under the table.
And sometimes it is blissfully wonderful: There are moments in these past two years where I wanted to press pause and live in them forever. But I can’t, and really, that is the beautiful thing about marriage; You can’t press pause, but you can work and live so that the moments happen more often and the happiness gets bigger. I don’t know how it happens, but when love is something you build it grows and it brings joy.
Benjamin, I love you. More than I did that gorgeous August day two years ago, but not nearly as much as I plan to many Augusts from now. Happy anniversary love.