I woke up Friday morning hardly believing that five years ago we began our married journey. Though I rarely put much stock in a marriage ceremony as our partnership with one another began three and a half years earlier, five years is a mighty significant, nice round number, a milestone if you will. In these five years, I've woken up each morning grateful for the man lying beside me and the presence he has in my life. Our fifth year of marriage has been our best yet, at least it's so in my ever-expanding little heart. It's been the first time in our marriage that we have worked corresponding hours at our jobs and gotten to spend time together during the week. We've slowed a bit and also incorporated a date night, eating burritos late on Thursday night, tucked into our favorite taqueria amidst a menagerie of taxidermied animals. And be it age or maturity or just settling into who we are, we've become even more a unified team, working together on behalf of each other. I feel that largely the selfishness of youth has passed and the ability to laugh and laugh and laugh has come in its place. I couldn't be more thrilled with who we've become together.
Friday night, he picked me up from work dressed inappropriately in his big blue sweater, the one he wore when he proposed to me back in 2007. We raced past the far south suburbs though at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon "raced" is hardly accurate. I fell asleep amidst the lull of traffic stopping and going the length of 294 and awoke as we pulled into the lot of a family u-pick farm that we soon found was already closed, but were graciously allowed to head into the strawberry fields for half an hour anyway. We picked furiously and filled two large boxes hardly stopping to sample the delicious red berries ... well, maybe a couple ... and thoroughly enjoyed the conversation with the kids our age running the show of what used to be their grandfather's farm.
In that moment, my world was complete. With this man, in this home and job and life, my existence is complete.