8 years

When I typed "8 years" into the Title box, I--without thinking--hit shift while I hit the 8 key. That left me with an asterisk, which I think is pretty appropriate.

Appropriate because I feel like there should be a footnote. It would go something like this:

Ryan and I have been married for eight years* now.

*This is only a technicality, of course. We are still 14 and 15 and are waaay to young to have actually been married for two years less than a decade. Still, the calendar claims that eight years have passed since our wedding day, and who am I to argue with such an impartial tool?

Also appropriate because an asterisk is a star sometimes. And I feel like our marriage deserves a star. A big, fat gold one.

Fifteen years ago, Ryan saw me for the first time and said he was going to marry me. Thirteen years ago, he asked me to homecoming. Twelve years ago he asked me to be his girlfriend.  Nine years ago he asked me to be his wife. And eight years ago I said yes.

I don't know what I expected marriage to feel like eight years down the road. Certainly not like this. I guess I assumed it would be routine, comfortable, serious, mature. You know, past the honeymoon stage but well before the intimacy that comes from having been married thirty years.

I find myself still really liking being with Ryan. He still makes me feel cool and funny and pretty. He's still cool and funny and cute. In short, the great stuff about our teen relationship has continued, and the other experiences we've shared have just added to the good base we already had. We have two awesome kids, we plan really fun (for us) parties and vacations together, and we just do life together. The mundane hasn't taken anything away from trying to impress each other or from even being shy around each other sometimes like I assumed it would.

(There are hard times, too, of course, but who wants to discuss that on an anniversary reflection post? Not me. I do want to keep it authentic and admit it's not all roses here in the Bond house, but I'll leave it at that admission and move on. Or I would if I would stop typing.)

Anyway, these past eight years have held so much beauty and fulfillment for me. Mom and Dad: thanks for letting me walk down the aisle, away from your home and into my own. Ryan: thanks for meeting me there at the end and leading me towards the very best life I could have imagined.

(And God: thanks for giving me Mom, and Dad, and Ryan.)