Love Actually

Five thousand, eight hundred and forty days have passed and it seems like yesterday. 17,520 possible opportunities to dine together and look across the table lovingly, inquisitively, hungrily, curiously, annoyingly, lustily (whatever fits the mood) into my love muffin’s eyes have come and gone, some more memorable than others. 3,859 loads of laundry, 46 vacations, 33 (give or take) pounds, 12 various vehicles, 8 different residences, 3 dogs and 1 child later (not that I am keeping count), the sixteen years of “death do us part” and “happily ever after” stuff has been eventful to say the least.

A wedding anniversary is unlike any other kind of celebration.  Not quite a birthday and not quite on the level of a major holiday.  In the best of times when the special day is observed on the weekend or it carries a major number (i.e. 1, 5, 10, 15, etc.) of years, a small bauble to show one’s affection and appreciation of love is highly anticipated, dinners with candlelight are intended for romance and the kids have been properly accounted for (in someone else’s house) and a keen effort is usually put forth to look one’s best.  When the centenary falls on other days of the week, is of less monumental epoch achievement, or if life is running you around, a card to your nuptial companion is a definite (or face the consequences) and a quick stop at the handy dandy dinner carry-out establishment and a clean t-shirt can work just as well.  Keep in mind, one gets points for remembering and other, um, benefits for additional bells and whistles beyond the call of duty.

Getting married is easy.  Staying married is not.  There is no user’s manual that comes along with your newly acquired spouse (it’s fair, you don’t come equipped with one either).  A good marriage is hard work – on both sides.  Even if you spent every waking moment with your betrothed prior to “the day”, you never know someone until you live with them, really live with them.  Habits that were once thought “cute” may become annoying.  Boring routines become the norm and the spark of your initial passion may fade.  You both change over time.  Life happens and only those who can adapt and laugh at each other and themselves will survive over the long haul.

My parents had a good marriage, probably a great marriage, until my dad passed away.  He died way too young, 55 years old and in his prime.  My mom and dad worked at their marriage every day.  They laughed, cried, fought, discussed topics endlessly, endured and loved each other for their almost 30 years together.  Every Saturday night, just the two of them would go off on a “date”, leaving my older brother and me home with TV dinners (this was living for us).  One of the things I will remember is at my dad’s funeral my mom told me that she loved him every day, she may not have liked a habit or two of his, but she loved him with her heart and soul and never took him for granted.  I know he would have probably have said the same about her.  With a track record like theirs, I think it words of wisdom.

After just 16 short years, I think I am just starting to get the hang of this marriage business and am contemplating signing up for another 16 years.  It’s seems to be getting better each year… or maybe I am older and wiser and just learning not to sweat the little stuff.  Or it could be that my love muffin indulges me in my “chick flicks”, love for chenille robes, and daily habit of baking something chocolate and I have found a happy medium of his love of his computer(s), the hot tub and treks to faraway lands.  After all, what’s a little compromise between partners, especially when it is mixed with a chance to be across the table with someone you actually want to be with?

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-