Tomorrow my hubby and I will celebrate 33 years of marriage. I never imagined when I said, “I do, “ thirty-three years ago, what that would entail.
I remember our first meeting, as he stepped off that United Airlines plane in Spokane, Washington to visit Whitworth College. He wore tattered jeans, a blue velour shirt, brown Adidas tennis shoes with a hole in the left toe, and sported a wooden cross necklace.
It was love at first sight!
I turned to my roommate and said, “I’m going to marry that guy.” And she said, “But you haven’t even met him yet.” In my eighteen year-old mind, I had found my prince charming.
Now after 27 moves in 33 years, a few hundred bumps along the way, a cancer diagnosis, broken hip, and a few other “minor” problems, we move a little bit slower when we “fall” into each other’s arms at night (for fear that we might break something else!).
Last night we went out to dinner to celebrate early and because I have the “perk” of dining out for free (sort of), we do it a little more often than most. But like everything else in life, it comes with a price. I stayed up late to do my report and just as I was about to hit the send button, I lost it!
It was 12:00 midnight (when the report had to be in), and I started to panic. And then I realized, I always have my original report in longhand, so I made a night of it (pretending like I was pulling an “all-nighter” at Whitworth College). I asked Mark if he would like to join me. I said, I'll even make us some hot chocolate with marshmallows." I could hardly believe it when he said, “No!”
At 2:00 a.m., the report was sent and I was back in bed. I dreamed all night of our marriage—33 years ago—when I said, “I do.”
I would do it again!