The media loves touting the divorce rate, matrimonial misery, connubial corruption.
If you’re happy as a ‘married,’ that means you’re a bore! If he seems happy, he’s having an affair! You can’t win and so you rent back-to-back seasons of Sex & The City and recall your single life with much more affection that it actually deserves.
I love the sentiment behind what I wrote on our first wedding anniversary and so I thought I’d share it here…
First wedding anniversary… What does it mean? How are we different? How has *it* changed us?
I’m drinking my coffee (Illy, drop of milk, teaspoon sugar), thinking about our elopement to South Carolina and Palmetto Bluff and the white chapel along the banks of the May River…
I didn’t need the nerves. There was no reason for them. It was the most important day of my life but everything had already been set in motion. I mean to say that *things*, trivialities could go wrong on our wedding day, but our path in life together would stay the same. While I believe that our actions create our destiny, I also believe in fate. (Complicated theory, huh? Maybe I should just stick to casseroles…)
Five months pregnant, crammed into my lovely wedding dress, I held my breath on the altar. Alongside Jamie and our parents, I thought about the good, the bad, the sweet, the sour.
Of course, I knew there’d be a baby (soon enough) and new responsibilities and not nearly as many restaurant dinners. Life was going to be a heavy, rich, serious.
I didn’t plan on the light, the love and the security that comes with saying your vows, filing joint tax returns and doing 5:45am bottle and bagel feedings.
And standing in that tiny chapel (just the 6 ½ of us), I didn’t realize that I’d never have to eat Sunday Supper alone. No more Sunday Blues. That seemingly small, lovely morsel had escaped my attention.
But now there’s always someone by my side to sample, to nibble, to tell me that the roast is tender and the chicken is tough. I know that I use too much salt in my sauces but my cakes have a beautiful crumb.
The first year of marriage has felt like a string of Sunday Suppers. Everything is unexpectedly good, slow and easy, filled with small joys and nice glasses of red.
As a newlywed, how do you feel about your new life? Is life as a twosome unexpectedly better? Worse? (Or do you wish you could just forget the whole business and eat a peanut butter & jelly sandwich)? Write in and tell us YOUR story.
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