7 year anniversary

7 years ago today was a day to celebrate. Today is a day to celebrate.

A month ago, we meant to call a babysitter, make a reservation, and celebrate this occasion properly.

But then this and that and that other thing got in the way. And before we knew it, the weekend was upon us and we had no plans.

Five years ago, that would have sent me into a tailspin. A freaking out, questioning, insecure tailspin. How could we not celebrate? Were we not prioritizing each other, our love, this day? What’s happening to us? We can’t even make plans to celebrate our own anniversary? Do we not love each other anymore? Or enough?

Yes, I was that girl.

My husband might argue that I still am that girl.

And… he’d be right.

I’ve seen a love taken for granted and I’ve seen a love celebrated and I know which one I want. A love taken for granted starves and withers. It frays with time until even the tiniest pull of a thread starts the whole thing unraveling. And up until a certain point, you can mend and patch but, eventually, the hole grows too big and the taking for granted has gone too far. There is a point of no return. Words become harsh. Greetings and goodbyes, cold and unfeeling. Respect, and understanding, and appreciation – the foundations of love – disappear. And it might be a long path but it is a path nonetheless and I don’t want to be on it.

These are the days when celebrating is hard. Littles need and they need a lot and we are the ones to provide. Needs come before wants. Champagne toasts and romantic dinners for two are tough to fit in. Possible, but tough.

But that’s not to say that we did not celebrate.

A family restaurant, baby boy in the highchair for the first time, our girl coloring and babbling, sharing a salad and a few slices of pizza.

Sharing sick-child-duty in the middle of the night, working together on a half dozen loads of laundry, seamlessly moving through the day, picking up children, exchanging a kiss here or a hug there in passing.

It was work. It was not glamorous or champagne or romantic. But it felt like love. Not taken for granted.