ten.

Bud,

we attended a wedding this past weekend. it was a rushed and wild day. Our Violet was the flowergirl and our Greyson had his last football game, of which you are the coach. The day started in a whirlwind and kept up at a steady pace throughout the day.

There were four kids to make, feed, and clean up breakfast for, two little girls' hair that needed brushed, styled, hairsprayed, and reminded to please just try to keep it nice until after the ceremony. There was football pants to pull out the dryer and shoulder pads to secure. There was a diaper that needed changed, and lots of little teeth to be brushed. There was 'where are your shoes?!" that needed shouted multiple times throughout the house. There were carseats to be buckled and many "please hurry up we need to leave right now" 's to be said between gritted teeth. there was a kiss goodbye, then a run back in the house because oops I forgot something and then another kiss goodbye.

we both said 'good luck;' me because I wanted my two football boys to be successful, you said it because you knew three kids six and under in a church during a wedding was going to be a circus act.

we made it though, both of us. You and the big boy earned a victory, and our flowergirl made it down the aisle, and our baby didn't scream or cry during the ceremony (although he did shout, "MOMMA!" once, but I can live with that).

We made it all the way to the reception where we ate our meal in bursts between chasing Rusty to the photo booth, and trips to the bathroom and cookie table for the kids, and speaking to other grown ups who we haven't seen in awhile. There was dancing, and blowing noses, and sideway glances with a whispered, "that is the last cookie, I mean it,  you're going to have a bellyache." There was switching shoes, and removing itchy clothes, and kissing booboos, and refilling drinks.

And then a slow song came on, and we found each other on the dance floor; just the two of us. Grey was dancing with his aunt, and Gemma was squeezed between her cousins, and Rusty and Violet were chasing each other with glow sticks around the dance floor.

And it was just us two.

And I tried to settle into the moment, just be there with you for that minute - but when I looked up, the bride and groom were right beside us slow dancing and smiling at each other with that 'forever starts today' glimmer in their eyes.

And suddenly, I could see the past ten years stacked up between them and us; stacked between us like folders marked with each year across the top - bulging full of photos, ticket stubs, and favorite meal recipes. Was it so long ago, that we were those two glimmering-eyed bride and groom?

But also, was it not forever ago that I have been yours? how many good mornings have been whispered since that first one the morning after our wedding day? How many fights and make ups? How many dinners we've shared and how many nights we looked at each other and agreed on ordering pizza instead? How many nights pacing the hallways with crying babies in our arms, how many diapers changed? How many kisses have you placed on my neck when you've returned from work? How many I'm sorrys and I forgots and thank yous. The inside jokes, and the stories told and retold and retold again and again until the kids think they actually remember being there. The parenting fails and the messes that have need cleaned, and shared chores and the apologies for being late to everything always. The meat of the life we have share already, it's consuming and chaotic and perfect in all of its obvious imperfection and wildness.

In that slow song dance; our bodies so worn down to a refined, polished fit; so accustomed to being near each other that we move without effort; like breathing - a sudden rush of gratitude came over me followed by the dizzying free fall feeling that comes with loving someone so fully; so undoubtedly, so inherently and instinctively that tears welled up in my eyes for a few moments before we both started laughing at Rusty who had his glow stick connector suctioned to his tongue and his eyebrows raised up wondering about how he was going to get it off.

ten years married.
nearly 19 years together

bud,
it will never be long enough.