October 3, 2012
Late last night, after Sky walked in the door from a long day at work, I showed him the pictures I had put up in our newly decorated bedroom. (I'll show you the entire low-budget makeover soon.) We have had the long frame forever, and I grabbed the only two printed out pictures I could find in the house- one of the two of us all dressed up, and one of our wedding rings- and clipped them in. He said, "You did good, kiddo."
And then we turned, stood in the dark hallway and hugged-more than a passing second, but a real hug. I breathed in the scent of his skin and put my forehead against his shoulder. It felt like the first time I hugged him, like the time I hugged him as he left for Afghanistan, and like the time we hugged when he came home.
For a moment, I remembered it was us. Before Millie. That he was my husband, not just Millie's father. That there was a family when there were just two of us here. It might sound silly that a girl married a little less than three years needs the reminder, but as beautiful as children make our lives, they change things more than I could have ever imagined. And I had forgotten. I married this man before I ever knew Millie would exist. I even married him knowing there was always a possibility she wouldn't.
As we went to bed that night, both of us turned our heads to look at the photos one last time before I turned off my lamp. "We used to do things. We used to go on dates." Sky sighed. Both of us tried desperately to remember when the picture was taken. Sky finally gave up, saying, "It's probably written on your blog somewhere." When I looked today, I realized it was July 1 of last year when that photo was snapped.
A lot of things have happened in these first few years of marriage-more than I ever thought could. There was a lot of good, and there was plenty of bad. We have come through all of it, some things leaving scars or reminders, but we've made it through nonetheless, champions of this relationship we've fought for
I don't want to wait for an anniversary once a year to celebrate it.
Dear husband of mine,
Will you go out with me?