And, of course, today E. and I turned eight. As in, our "we" turns eight.
That didn't sound right, but you know what I mean.
I say it every year, but it boggles my mind we've been married that long. Our wedding seems last week. Yet, in those eight years, we've moved across the country, bought two houses, sold one house, had two kids, built up two careers, adopted two dogs, given one dog away, fed two very fat cats who are as ever-present as taxes and death, dealt with illnesses, visited out-of-state family, made friends, taken trips, and otherwise just lived an all-around very full life. And most of it we've done on our own.
Let's be real, too: we've spent some time arguing and fighting. It drives me crazy that he always leaves one dirty pan in the sink. He might snore a little. He's not always as...talkative...as I would like. And he has his list about me, too. There are times we make each other pretty mad.
But he is always there for me when I need him, and I hope he feels the same about me. He is always the first person I turn to when I'm troubled, sad, or want to celebrate. He listens to my inanities and insecurities and he still loves me at the end of the day. I can't imagine feeling comfortable with anyone else.
It's hard for me to remember a time when Eric hasn't been in my life. He's been my loving and steadfast companion for most of my adult life, because I didn't really start growing up until I met him. He's a loving, involved father, a caring partner, and a very good cook.
I am a lucky woman.
Because our anniversary always falls close to Nolie's birthday and the beginning of the semester (see? I'll never really grow up! I'll be in school forever!) we don't usually get to celebrate it. But there's usually some wine and sushi involved, and the kids get to watch a movie, if you know what I mean. So here's to a lovely evening of celebration, and to eight more years of love, challenges, and, if we're lucky, victory.
And to eight more after that, and after that...