A little love bubble

Marriage is a fragile thing.

I don’t like to think of it that way, either. I don’t.

I prefer to think of love as all-powerful. The strongest of strong binding agents. Infinite in its beauty and magic. Capable of carrying us over the world’s most devastating storms. Stronger than all of the emotions and passions that are powerful in their own right. Anger. Resentment. Jealousy. Desire.

I like to dream that marriage needs only love. And as long as there is love, there is strength.

I prefer to believe that love conquers all.

That it’s all you need.

But, of course, it’s not.

Eight years ago today, we celebrated love. Our love.

On a cloud made of love under a rainbow of love. In a little love bubble, we vowed to love each other.

In a little love bubble. That’s what it felt like. And, looking back, every one of my memories of that day has a love filter on it. The images are soft and sweet and beautiful

But I also vowed that my hand would always be there when he reached for it.

And he also vowed that on that day, life’s joys became sweeter and it’s pains easier, because he’d, from that day forward, share them with me.

On that day we vowed to love each other. But we vowed more than just love.

Because marriage is a fragile thing and, in one of the world’s great sadnesses, it needs more than love to survive.

Love, it turns out, as hard as it is, is the easy part. I love him with all of my heart and my soul and I do so effortlessly. It just happens. I couldn’t stop if I tried and, of course, I don’t try. I just love.

But in the eight years since that love bubble day, we’ve needed to do so much more. We’ve had to respect. We’ve had to forgive. We’ve had to learn to support each other in the ways only we can and in the ways we so desperately need. And we’ve had to learn to lean on each other.

We’ve had to compromise. We’ve had to talk. And talk. And talk. And sometimes scream. And yell. And cry. And then talk some more. A lot more.

We’ve had to evolve and we’ve had to do it together. Because humans naturally evolve every day and even more when life is changing wildly. But to evolve in lock step with another human? To grow together, roots and vines intertwining instead of stretching in any which way towards the sun? That takes something special.

It takes a lot of special somethings. It takes courage. And commitment. It takes a distinct blend of selfishness and selflessness. I want to grow and thrive and be the best me that I can be for me and for you. And I want to support you to do the same.

We’ve had to learn how to accept. And support. And forgive. We’ve had to learn how to talk. And listen.

And we’re still learning.

And we’ll keep learning. We’ll have to. In eight short years, we haven’t seen it all. Or done it all. We haven’t learned it all and even the things we have learned, some of those, most of those, we’ll have to learn again. And maybe again.

We’ll never stop learning. Not if we want to make it.

That used to scare me. And worry me.

But now, it excites me.

In eight short years, I’ve seen what happens when we do the work. When we compromise and respect and support and lean. I’ve seen what happens when we have the courage to talk. And forgive.

And it’s amazing.

And it keeps getting better.

Happy Anniversary my love, the man who still makes me smile brighter than the sun just by walking into the room. I love you.