Whoa. Guess what.
Ten years ago - TEN, can you believe it? - Julie and I stood before a Justice of the Peace (misnamed, given all the bickering he inaugurated) and said, “Huh? What?”
We had got to the point in our lives where we realized that the benefits of joint health insurance outweigh any kind of political or moral or wait-till-something-better-comes-along-ical stance and in a matter of days – 24 hours, actually, following Illinois law – we were married.
Regrets? Really, only that we didn’t have the winos outside the Chicago courthouse take an overpriced, out-of-focus Polaroid of out dazed faces.
If I may be a little sappy now: The ten-year point seems to be (at least for me, but I think I speak for both of us, and that is my point) a GREAT F-ing period in the marriage. We’ve gotten used to one another. We seem to know each other’s thoughts and feelings but still know enough to inquire about them anyway – no taking for granted. We feel comfortable, fairly confident, forgiving, generally happy, and we haven’t reached the “in sickness” hurdle yet. And the kids, as much as they seem to steal time from us, only help things.
I love you, Julie!