Twenty One Years

Do you remember your 21st birthday? My at the time boyfriend (now husband) had a party for me. He hired a stripper, then invited his Mom over to watch and take pictures. Very awkward! I drank too much wine, plus a bottle of champagne and was so sick. Really sick. Even now sometimes the smell of wine makes me feel sick. It was a fun party. I looked great, I remember exactly what I was wearing. I think I could still get into the shoes...

Today is my 21st wedding anniversary. There will be no party. No overdrinking. I won't look back on this day and remember what I was wearing. But, it is the 21st anniversary, on the 21st...that's kind of cool. Plus, it's the 21st anniversary. The percentage of people who get that far into a marriage is not huge, so I've got that.

People talk about marrying their best friend. They make their marriage sound like rainbows and butterflies. That is great for them, but it isn't my reality. Marrying my best friend is illegal in most states (she's female), and my marriage is more scattered showers and ants. I didn't marry my best friend, I married the guy who asked me. That probably sounds harsh, it isn't meant to. We were in love, we had dated for a couple years, we wanted a family, it was all good. We were two young people chasing the American dream...house with a picket fence, 2.5 children, a dog, you know, that dream.

Twenty one years later we have a house with no fence, 4 kids (we are SO above average), 2 cars, 2 dogs (we tend to overdue the easy parts of the American dream), 2 cats, 2 African water frogs and a rabbit. Our 21st Anniversary. We are old. It seems odd to feel so young, but say you've been married for 21 years.

In 21 years, I have found weight, and lost hair, OK, that goes for both my husband and I. We've owned three homes, ten cars, five dogs, eight cats, three toasters and four vacuums. We are hard on toasters and vacuums and picky about dogs and cats. Some just don't make the cut, others leave us before we are ready.

We have moved across the country, away from family for my husband's job. We have lost two grandparents. We have made new friends and lost contact with old friends. Most importantly, we have raised four amazing-in-their-own-way kids.

We have grown up. We have changed. In some ways we have changed for the better, some changes, not so good. We have seen each others "better" and "worse". We have each considered hanging up the marriage hat at one time or another. But then, we procrastinate, ride out the storm, well, basically, we are cheap and divorce is expensive. But really, we have learned that there are peaks and valleys in marriage and if you hang out for a bit, you'll find yourself atop another peak.

I used to be a very affectionate person. I would send cards "just because" to my husband's work. Then the kids, the bills, the laundry, it has all gotten in the way...so, the nagging question is "Do you love me?"

Let me explain. My husband and I are very different people. We like different music, T.V. shows, movies and food. We have different sleep cycles, he goes to bed early, wakes up early. I am a night owl and love to sleep in. He likes to be ten minutes early for everything. I am more a "fashionably late" type person.Our daily priorities are different, he likes the sink free of dishes. I like to get through the day. I mean, I like all the dirty clothes in the hamper instead of the floor. Toys on the floor don't bother me, noise doesn't bother me. Those things make my husband climb the walls. We are very different. Really, besides living space, bank accounts and kids, we have little in common. So, "do you love me?" is a very valid question.

We have spent 21 years growing up, sometimes apart, sometimes together. We have spent 21 years taking care of the house, the cars, the appliances, the pets and of course, the kids. We often forget to take care of "us". The love isn't expressed as frequently as it should be. I don't say it. Then, I think of Golde from "Fiddler on the Roof". Her husband asked the very same question, "Do you love me?" her response is the same as mine (with some minor fixes);

"For twenty-one years I've washed your clothes
Cooked your meals, cleaned your house
Given you children...

For twenty-one years I've lived with him
Fought him, starved with him
Twenty-one years my bed is his
If that's not love, what is?"

In short, the answer is, in my own quirky way, yes dear, I suppose I do love you. Thanks for 21 years.