Today is our wedding anniversary – fourteen years. We didn’t realize it when we picked that day to be married, September 4, 1994, but that date has a very helpful mnemonic: 9/4/94. Almost as memorable as my friend’s anniversary; she got married on 7/7/07. I highly recommend having some kind of memory-kicking device; without it, I’m sure we’d never remember our anniversary.
(When we married, it became much easier to remember our parents’ wedding anniversaries, because both sets of parents got married on the same day. Which was one of those little details that made the Big Man and me seem fated for each other. And it wasn’t some popular wedding date, like June 6 – the parents’ double anniversary is March 27.)
The Big Man and I don’t do anything particular to celebrate our wedding anniversary, and we don’t exchange gifts, but even so, I use the date to remind me to stop, to remember our wonderful wedding weekend (for which my mother worked like a dog for a year), and to think about how happy I am to be married to the person to whom I’m married.
The Big Man and I had known each other for less than a year when we got engaged, and we got married a year after that, and I felt like I knew him sooooo well. Surprise! Turns out that I didn’t know him nearly as well as I thought.
But I was wiser and luckier than I knew, and being married has just revealed more of his virtuous and lovable qualities. Phew.
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