Contentment

Two years ago on the 19th Mike and I pledged our love to each other in front of God and everybody. It was a lovely wedding and has been a great marriage in every aspect I could imagine.

A good friend once told me that the first year of marriage was, so far, her easiest, and that the third year is really the most tough. I can understand that - the first year you're so busy being polite to your spouse and trying not to hack them off. By the third year you wouldn't have that kind of energy anymore. So I began to dread what was around the corner.

But I've found it's different with Mike and me. Sure, we have our bad days and conflict. And with my temper, "conflict" is a nicer word for World War III. But wouldn't life be boring without that? And what's that proverb about rainy days making you appreciate the pretty ones? Sure, the trip to Europe that we're taking in September might have something to do with how happy I am right now, but I know there's also something deeper. Something more simple, more Mayberry, here.

As I grow up, I'm learning to appreciate contentment much more deeply than I appreciate happiness. Being happy is great, but it's fleeting. And like being polite to a spouse in the first year of marriage, really, who has the energy for all that happiness? I'm growing to appreciate the satisfaction of getting Dante all excited and greeting Mike when he comes home from work. And digging in the dirt. Reconciling a bank statement to the penny and folding fresh laundry. There's nothing wrong with manual labor, but I never dreamed I'd find such pleasure in it. Ten, no, five years ago, I'd look at someone like me and feel sorry for somebody so boring. I guess that's age for you.

Deep thoughts by Fran Peacock.

Indulge me in a trip down Memory Lane with some details I remember about our wedding. I really should write more down so I can remember in years to come:
- That first look I had of Mike in the church. It felt wierd - I'd never seen him in a tux before!
- Getting a spider in my dress before the ceremony and not really caring. But Mike's sweet cousin Lyndi helped me get it out at the reception.
- I was late to get dressed and whipped my clothes off so fast I lost Nancy's sixpence. Mom found it in time - it was slung across the room. She spotted it while on the phone with Beverly to see if she could bring a spare.
- During pictures, Mike bit my neck and tecnhically gave me a hickie (little red spot - no bruise though) throughout the wedding.
- Dad took my pulse during the ceremony. Dad, Jim White (the only man who could have ever married us), and Mike all thought I was going to pass out. I started snuffling, so Jim passed smelling salts and a handkerchief across the communion table. I didn't want to reach that far, so I whipped a handkerchief out of my bra. I'm classy like that.
- After he walked me down the aisle, Mike grabbed my purse on the table in the vestibule and whisked me into his car and on the the reception - nobody realized we had already left!
- We were early to the reception, so we just made an impromptu receiving line at the door. That worked out best because that way we were able to be sure to speak to everyone.
- After everyone went inside, Mike and I slipped in and cut cakes under the radar.
- A full moon has followed us until this anniversary: it was a full moon the night he proposed, the night we married, and the night of our first anniversary.
- Even though it's not a full moon this time, it still feels special. The night we married was the most magical night of my life.


What have we done this past year?

And just in case you were wondering, here are a few pics from our first year:


Happy Anniversary, Sea Urchin. Sure do love you.