Fourteen

He can finally fill in his beard, and we’ve discovered it is speckled with just the tiniest amount of wisdom shaded gray. I have found need to loosen my belt yet another notch, and the mirror is constantly adding more long witch-hairs to pluck from my neck. The plaster mold is beginning to dry from crows feet freshly pressed around our eyes. Not just when we smile, but mostly when we smile.

We looked like babies all those years ago, and we still pinch each other as our three kids continue to do their “firsts”, firsts that we remember ourselves from just yesterday: first concert, first loose tooth, first grade, (fifth grade…sixth grade…).

And these fourteen years later we pinch ourselves as we look back on marriage, our first pet, our first house, three babies, sickness and health, plenty and want, joy and sorrow…

So he arranges to drop off the kids, take a small get-away* (but not too far), do dinner and a movie, get back to our little B&B to pop a cork and toast to another year.

Because fourteen years is a lot to celebrate. Not that we smiled the whole way through it (there is a lot between the lines of “in joy and in sorrow”, and vows are a heavy price to speak) but each year we smile a little deeper. Our crows feet can’t lie.

*If you’re looking for a fun date night, my personal suggestions are to see Star Wars, pick up some tasty quesadillas from La Borimex, then go down the street to 1777 Americana Inn where Bob and Denise provide a romantic setting and also a good brew. And if board games are your thing, Ticket to Ride is fun. Especially when you win. (What can I say? My husband has always made me feel like he’s got my back.)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s