I love to celebrate. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays (real or the Hallmark variety); I think it’s fun and important to stop and pay homage to those we love and those who make our lives interesting.
Imagine my distress, then, having surgery the day before my 36th wedding anniversary. It was a minor outpatient procedure, but I knew I wouldn’t be 100% the next day. Anesthesia and pain meds don’t support celebration.
I tried, mind you. I bought a card several weeks ago. My husband left beautiful flowers in the morning which I split up in vases all around the house. I continued to feel pretty good in the early afternoon so I prepped sauce for a chicken cacciatore dinner. By 2:00, though, I was worn out and once again in pain. Reluctantly, I put the food away and let my husband know I was heading back to bedrest.
After he came home from work, we ate some leftovers, exchanged cards and I was back in bed early. I was disappointed, even though I knew it couldn’t be helped.
Later, my husband shared this comment:
“Look, El. We’re not teenagers madly in love. We’re just a couple of old people who love each other.”
Somehow, that felt so true and right. After 36 years, it’s nice to be just two old (OK, maybe not so old!) people who love each other.
What else do we really need?
