Tomorrow marks our sixth wedding anniversary. There's not a lot to say except my God, it's comfy in here. I love marriage. I love my husband. I love our child, and the life we've built together. Six years. It's such a small number but it feels so good. It feels good because it seems like a nice solid base, a good strong foundation for a marriage that will one day grow into 20, 40, 60 years.
Ours is no different from other successful marriages. There's nothing that makes us OMG BETTER THAN YOU LOSERS. The best thing about us is what's best about all the other successes out there: we're made for each other. I mean... That's it. That's as best as I can describe it.
There's respect and humor, trust and loyalty. We raise our child with the same goals in mind. We like a clean house. We quote The Fifth Element (just one line) and Dracula: Dead and Loving It (all of them) to each other on a daily basis. From top to bottom of the list, there you go.
I hate to say, he completes me, or I complete him, because our relationship would have failed immediately if either of us looked to the other for completion. In order to have a solid relationship, you need to be whole when you start it. That is basically the hallmark of healthy human interaction and intimacy.
But I will say, we complement each other. What was complete before is now enhanced. What was whole before is now perfected. Right off the top of my head, Todd taught me the beauty of apologizing, of accepting it and moving on. I have introduced him to the freeing world of silliness, lightheartedness. Both are important. Both enhanced, put a bit of a shine on the old exterior.
So I guess now is when I say to my husband, sorry for posting another silly photo of you to the internet. I love you. See you in another six, another sixty if we're lucky (or vampires by then).
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