Saturday, July 2
We celebrated our 14th anniversary on Saturday. That morning, my husband had brought me irises because I had carried a bouquet of irises at our wedding. Later, we dropped the girls off at a sleepover and headed out for the evening. I forgot my camera and was mildly annoyed because this post was going to be about my anniversary and now I wouldn’t have any photographs of our night out. I was going to have to figure out something when I got home.
Whenever there is an anniversary, people (and by “people” I mean “women”; I’ve never had a man ask me what I got for my anniversary) want to know about the gifts, like it’s a Rorschach test on the state of your relationship.
What did you husband get you, they whisper conspiratorially, eyes gleaming.
“Um…”, furiously trying to think of what to say that would seem worthy to be an anniversary present.
“…a gift card to Peet’s…”
What else, what else?
“…and we saw a movie and went to dinner…”
It seems so inadequate, so paltry, and as I fumble for an answer I see their heads cocked like little birds, waiting.
“…Oh and some flowers…”
There! I said three things; is that enough?
“…and a card…”
And finally my voice trails off and I look into the distance as though I’m lost in the memory of all these wonderful gifts.
And these are tokens of affection that I’m perfectly happy with because I know that later in the week, after I’ve been with the girls all day and he comes home at 5:30pm, he’ll wander outside to water the plants and then do the dishes that have been sitting in the sink since lunch, and later, after dinner, even though he’s changed into his sweatpants and a tshirt and is relaxing at his computer, he’ll offer to fill up my car with gas and drop by the store because we’re almost out of milk and call before he comes back to see if I want anything from Peet’s. And when he comes in the door he’ll lay two Dairy Milk chocolate bars on my desk because he knows they’re my favorite.
And then I realized that I do have photographs from the day and that the post wouldn’t be about my anniversary, but about my marriage.
Doing laundry in front of the TV in the afternoon and making the bed together at midnight so we could go to sleep. Not exciting, not romantic, not worthy of a Facebook update, but a true depiction of our life together.