August 09, 2006

On Our 20th Wedding Anniversary

On August 9th, 1986 I said, "I do." I didn't have a clue what those words would mean going forward--"I do" is something you say retroactively because you have loved someone hard enough and long enough to say it.

My "I do" seems like 5 minutes ago and 150 years ago all at once. I am married to a man I have known for 22 years--exactly half of my lifetime, all of my adult life.

I love you, George. I loved you when I was a kid and I love you now. Holy cow. 20 years. Holy cow. It's fun to look in your eyes and see them smiling, see our eyes saying back and forth to each other:  Wow, what? Tee hee. Man.

People tell you when you're 24 and getting married that it won't be easy, that love doesn't solve problems, that you can't live on love. They aren't lying when they say these things. But they also aren't saying to you that love is so many things in one instant:

Love isn't easy and it's breathlessly simple. it doesn't solve problems and it erases everything but itself. you can't live on love and love is living.

Love feels like 5 minutes and 500 years. It's childlike and ancient. It is slicing pain and a way to wholeness. It's layer upon layer upon layer of knowing. Knowing feels like death and is the context for living.

How can something be so everything at once?

I love you, George. Happy 20. ;-)

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