Four Years

This morning, we sat across the table from one another at coffee. He drank his hot, I drank mine cold... the way we did when we met, the way we always do.

He opened my car door as we were leaving, tucked me into the passenger side, and gave me a kiss before shutting the door. The way he did when we met... the way he has done, every single time since.

He drove me to work. He changed the music to a country station and continued to wake up from sleep, while I cheerily caught him up on life-events, conversations, news highlights, and other colorful happenings. He kept me company by his presence, and kissed me again as we said good-bye.

It's a simple, special collection of behaviors and nuances, and it is ours. On this morning of our fourth anniversary, it felt especially beautiful.

- - -

We met on the road, when we both were working and traveling. Since then, our lifestyle has continued to be largely characterized by a persistent series of entrances and exits, hellos and goodbyes. It has been a lot of fun at times and incredibly difficult at others, but it has been right and has suited us well. We've gotten to travel a lot. We've learned how to cherish each other in some unique ways, and we've learned how to leverage our time well.

We've had to get creative. At times, we've had to duke it out. We've had to pray a lot. With God's help, we've made it ours.

But now, unexpectedly... "the road", which has been the determinant of so many of our comings and goings, is beginning to recede in the rear-view mirror. He's accepted a new role, a new job. He's coming off the road. It doesn't seem real yet.

Oh, and there's this other small thing happening also... this becoming a family of three.

- - -

It's like our entire lifestyle is getting a re-set, four years in - except that he's still him, and I'm still me.

No one could have explained to me what a grand comfort this would be... this familiarity that grows up from the soil of a marriage.

He still orders the hot coffee, and I still order the cold. He still opens my door, and tucks me into the passenger seat. He still smiles and shocks me with that lightness for which there aren't any words. He still says "run the vacuum" instead of vacuum, and I still find myself giggling at it every time.

To the next four... times ten. These constants, these changes, the mixture of the two... this is the beauty that is ours, that God has entrusted to us. This is the life, the marriage, the home for which I am grateful.

And this is still the rush of my heartbeat, when all else fades except his glance at me from across the room.

I love you, Tim. Happy Anniversary.