I Believe I Would

I wonder if I met you and pretended not to know you,
if the same things would attract me to you now as did then.
I did not know then that you would grow more handsome with age
or become a wonderful father or that your young calloused hands
would one day be strong and warm, host to a band of gold, a band of steel.

I wonder what I would notice about you first,
some things about you have changed since we were young.
Would I notice your kind smile or the way you wink if you catch me staring
or the way you drink IPA and eat more salads and you always wear a belt.
Would I see the salt in your pepper hair or the reading glasses in your pocket.

I wonder what you would say to me first,
with no teenage friends or rock concerts to speak about.
Would we talk about buying a Tesla or your dream of living off the grid
or patronizing local business and watching documentaries and Netflix shows.
Would we stay out late talking all night even if we didn't have a curfew.

If we met right now for the first time, would we be the same.
Would my eyes reflect to you something familiar, a part of you
that resides inside of me. Would my soul recognize you as Polaris,
within the crowded sky. Not flashy and attention seeking, but stable and true.
Would I fall in love with you all over again.

I believe I would.

Photo Credit: Lauren Glase Photography

It's Not That Hard

At least not for us. That's what my husband and I talked about over our sort of belated anniversary dinner out tonight. I expressed to him I felt a little disappointed, deflated the past few days because we didn't plan anything special for our anniversary. We celebrated 20 years of marriage this week and I felt like it should have been a bigger deal. How many people do you know anymore who have been married for 20 years? For the first time, no less. We talked about going away for the weekend, explored different ideas, and never made plans. We brought in take-out Chinese food after work, relaxed on the couch with some iPad games and a little TV, and went to bed. Like any other night. Okay, it was during the week, no big deal. We'd go out and do something special over the weekend. Maybe try a new restaurant, splurge on a fancier night out than usual. But no, we ended up eating sushi after trying and leaving one restaurant because there was an hour and a half wait- can you imagine? Seriously, no restaurant in Fort Myers (or anywhere?) is worth waiting that long.

So there we were, sitting quietly and waiting for our ginger salads. I told him how I was feeling. I wasn't blaming either one of us or anyone else, but I just felt a bit bummed we didn't do something, didn't celebrate in a bigger way. He told me I get more upset over stuff like that than he does. Believe it or not, it didn't upset me to hear him say that. It is probably true. Then I said maybe it wasn't such a big deal. "After all, it's not like it was hard." He smiled. "Right?" He agreed and we realized maybe we didn't make it such a big deal because there was never any doubt for us we would be sitting there, celebrating 20, 30, 50 anniversaries. It just isn't that hard for us to be married.  I feel badly for those who may have once thought that and were disappointed. But I just know it is this way for us. If there is such a thing as soulmates, we are it. We do marriage well. It's not that hard. At least not for us.

       This is one of my favorite pictures of us in recent years. St. Augustine, Florida. 2013

20 Years Ago Today

Twenty years ago I rode home from the hair salon in jeans and a flannel shirt. I was twenty-two going on the rest of my life. My hair was styled in an up-do with tendrils, just the way my mom suggested. Looking back now, I wish I would have worn it down with my natural curls, so the photos would still look like me. But I was young, impressionable, and my mom knew which looks suited me so I took her advice. We walked into the townhouse, the home of my adolescence. The home I had moved from a few months prior when I graduated college. The entryway was walled with mirrors from ceiling to floor, and I stopped to look at myself. My make-up was not yet done, but I donned my veil pulled back over the white satin headband my mom had adorned with beads for my special day. It appeared no part of me was ready, except for my hair. But I was happy and calm, nothing like the magazine articles and well meaning stories from others. No jitters, no butterflies, just excitement. We were getting ready to drive over to the venue, and Mom stepped up to me and took both my hands. We looked in the mirror together and then turned to look each other in the eyes. We stood intimately close, face to face, and she gave my hands a gentle squeeze. She got serious for a moment, not emotional but businesslike and she said, This is it. If you've changed your mind, if you have any doubts, we'll call it off. No questions asked. I remember the moment more clearly than almost any other in my life. I looked her dead in the eyes and responded, Mom, I've never been more sure of anything else in my life. She pulled her lips in, choked back some tears, and hugged me tight. Then we were off and I got married.

Photography was so different then.