My husband and I will celebrate our 2 year wedding anniversary on Monday. 2 years… How can that even be?? It seems like our wedding was just yesterday. But then again, I suppose it’s very easy to believe when I think about everything we’ve accomplished. We’ve traveled so much, moved into our dream home, and had our sweet baby girl.
More than what we have done, though, I’m struck by how far we have come as a couple since that day we exchanged our vows of forever. I can honestly say that I love my husband even more now than I did on that perfect summer day, when we were surrounded by all of our loved ones, in a gorgeous ballroom in the most beautiful hotel in Chicago. Oh, I loved him with all my heart that day, as I stood before him in my dream wedding dress, and he so unbelievably handsome in his tux. I knew he was the man for me, and I was hopeful and excited about the life we were starting together.
Yes, I definitely loved my husband when I said ‘I Do.’ But, I’m moved by how much I love him today. It’s a different kind of love. It’s a tried and true love. A love that has gotten down and dirty, and has come out the other side stronger. Ours is a love that we have both worked on more than we have worked on anything before. It’s an everyday, miraculous kind of love now.
This is what is running through my mind as I sit here, on a typical Tuesday evening. Worn out from the day, wearing a faded old Target sweatshirt that is stained with spit up (and??) that belongs either in the washer or the trash. I didn’t have time to put in my contacts today (so you can just imagine the state of my hair), and my thick, dorky glasses only highlight my puffy eyes. Our baby girl is fussy and has hit the dreaded overtired hour, since the majority of her time and energy has been spent fighting her afternoon nap. Scouter is going crazy barking his head off at nothing in particular, and our home is in its typical end-of-day disarray.
I know that any minute my husband will walk through the front door, exhausted and weary from his busy businessman day, carrying files piled so high they threaten to tumble out of his arms with every step. His face will break into a tired smile when he sees his family, waiting. He will look at me and tell me I’m beautiful, and I will come to life and playfully slap his bum. He will greet his baby girl with a goofy grin and a smooch on her bald head, and she will shriek with joy, arms raised waiting for “Da Da” to pick her up. He will scoop up Scouter with his free arm, and the old dog will wag his tail as excitedly as if he were a young pup.
And then my husband will kiss me, just as he did on that day 2 years ago, but it will mean so much more. It will mean that we’ve made it this far, and that we are in this crazy life together. It will mean we are home.