Somewhere Between When Harry Met Sally and When a Man Loves a Woman

Today, Neal and I celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary. I haven't done anything for 11 years except live on this earth, be a daughter, be a friend and be married to Neal. Jobs, houses and cars have come and gone. I haven't even had a pair of underwear last this long. But if I did, they would be stretched out in all the right places, clingy when they need to be and invisible but supportive.

One of our wedding songs was "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts because at the ripe ages of 28 and 38, it had felt like a harrowing journey to find each other. But the music has since changed. There are still valleys through the muck and long, scenic drives along the high ground, but, for the most part, the road has been smooth. Detours? Sure. Construction? Constantly. But there is no one I would rather have beside me on this trip. Sometimes I have dreams that I have married someone else and when I finally shake myself awake, I'm flooded with relief that I married the right one.

We are, coincidentally, spending the week about a mile from where we were married. Today I'm going to make Neal drive by the house where we stayed and maybe walk the little strip of sand where we devoted a lifetime to one another. It does, sort of, feel like a pilgrimage. We find ourselves here...after the moves. after the heartbreaking endings and all the fresh starts. We come here and we remember what we were like before one of us went to war and one delivered an angel baby...before we became parents...before we slept too little and worked too late...when we had been married for 11 hours and for better or worse felt more like a promise and less like a commitment. We come to this place and remember that we laughed a lot back then. Now we have a mortgage, a 5-year old, a geriatric cat, a truck payment and a college fund. I've always wanted to be that woman who is a wife first and a mom second. Regretfully, I haven't always lived up to the ideal. Sometimes the responsibility of parenting weighs heavily on my shoulders and I forget to laugh, fail to see my husband before I see the father of my child. And that has taken its toll on our marriage, I'm sure.

Every time we celebrate another year of marital bliss, I'm reminded of the movie, When Harry Met Sally. Not so much the on-again, off-again relationship that gave the movie its plot, but the interjected interviews of real-life spouses. From the chatty wife/silent husband to the husband and wife who were talking over one another, I always wished I would find the kind of happiness that these couples signified. Eleven years later, I think we are there. And the trick, I think, is: slow and steady wins the race.

Neal always kisses me goodnight and good morning. He bathes the kid and empties the dishwasher. I clean the litterbox, cook the meals and keep the kitchen clean. He knows not to dry my laundry and that I need coffee first thing every morning. I know he goes to bed at 10:15 and wants to eat a vegetable most nights of the week. Sometimes he brings home a bottle of wine, sometimes I surprise him with a 6-pack of craft beer. I know that mission comes first and he knows that I need a girls' weekend once a year. Even though we don't tell each other everything, we know just about everything, but that knowledge is hard-earned. It comes from 11 years of disagreements, misunderstandings, judgments, gross generalizations and assumptions. It's like that question: would you want to be born now, knowing everything you know right now or lose 10 years off your life? Would I want to begin our marriage knowing everything I know now? The easy answer is yes, but not necessarily true. Would I give up reassurances to feelings of doubt, hugs after arguments, laughter about the silliest of misunderstandings? No, I don't think I would. Our marriage is a sculpture of our lives together and without these pieces layered over time, it would be entirely 1-dimensional.

I always thought we would be that couple that held hands in the Costco parking lot, slow-danced in the kitchen with a delighted toddler looking on, kissed in public without the least acknowledgment of anyone else. But we aren't those people. Sometimes I see those people and I feel a twinge of jealousy. What do they have that we don't? A nanny? A little blue pill? But then I remember that, at our cores, we aren't them. Our hands get sweaty and Blue thinks the only male I should be dancing with is him. But when we laugh, when we talk, we find each other and it's better than any waltz. Our house is wherever the Army sends us, but Neal is my home. It doesn't matter in which far-flung corner of the world we end up, when I look at him, I know where I am supposed to be and everything about it feels perfect. 11 down, 111 to go. We won't get them all, but I cherish the ones we do get. Some days are painfully monotonous and others are filled with stomach-twisting adventure. Regardless, I know that we are in this together, whatever that may bring. And that is a Hollywood rom-com ending.

On our first anniversary, Neal was pushing troops through Basic Training at Ft. Jackson as part of his annual training. So we shared this bed for 3 nights. We bought a king size bed as soon as he got home.

Neal was deployed for our second anniversary. On our third anniversary, we buried a child and got tattoos to celebrate his life.

For #4 we went to Charleston. We got drunk at the hotel happy hour, chatted with WWII veterans, saw a production of Hairspray and went to the Citadel Friday night awards parade.

Deployed again for #5. On our 6th wedding anniversary we celebrated with this little guy, born just a month before. We were exhausted and probably overwhelmed. I don't remember much but I recall Neal asking me to pick up dog food. Except that we had two cats.

Thank goodness for grandmothers. Our 7th wedding anniversary was spent overnight in Louisville, where we drank wine, blew glass and posed inappropriately with 21C penguins.

8 years later and still posing with our wedding officiant, who I found online but has turned out to be one of our favorite island people!

I don't remember exactly but I think we spent #9 in a tree, picking apples. I don't know what the anniversary gift is for 9 years, but I doubt it's pie.

Most anniversaries end up involving this guy. It is what it is and we always make the best of it. But it is nice to have a non-kid anniversary every few years. Happy #10 to us! 

#11! Takeout and wine on the beach while the sun sets. Bonus: Neal found a cool night sky app on his phone! And we didn't get run over by the beach restoration crews working all night.

Cheers to being in the marital "tweens"!