Today, is my tenth anniversary. We have officially hit double digits, that point when time spans become marked not only by years, but decades. Well, one decade anyway. A decade sounds way too old. I'm way too young to have already been married a decade. Of course, I was just a child when I married, really. And so it's already happened.
Truly, it doesn't feel all that auspicious. It seems we should have some special way of marking such an occasion. But in reality, it's just another day. Just another day at work, just another night at home with the kids, or one of the kids anyway. Trouble's doing BS camp during the day and LT's spending the week at my mother's. Another night with me sitting blogging, Blackstone watching TV. Not that I mean to make it sound dreary. I don't find my life or my marriage dreary. Not by any means. I am happily married after ten years. We had a wonderful vacation earlier this year. And honestly, I don't need a huge to-do to appreciate my life. I enjoy the day-to-day just fine. I don't find it mundane or draining. I enjoy family dinners, date nights, exercise, story time, watching the kids do karate, baseball, basketball, and starting Monday, football (lord help me on that one!), sinking into the tub with my Kindle, walking the bike path at lunch. Life is good. It could be a little less stressful without the recession (depression), the money worries. But other than that, seriously good. Like, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, good. Because with more than 50% of all marriages ending in divorce, when's it going to happen to me? How do I get to be the lucky one? Not even just still married, but still enjoying it.
My relationship has been the one thing in my life that I've always been able to count on. It has been largely without drama, fighting or stress. Often, it's been the only part of my life without drama. Except for that year around when we got married. That year sucked . . . hard. But I know why it sucked. It was hard because it was a year of so many transitions for us and our families. Not just the marriage, either. That was also the year I quit teaching and when back to school. The year Blackstone finished grad school and started working for the state. The year my parents moved back from VT and lived with us, and then my in-laws, and then us again while they were trying to sell their house.
That was the year we almost didn't make it. No year since in the past ten years has been that hard. Somehow I had the confidence that we were strong enough, devoted enough to each other, to make it through that year. Not that there weren't moments I had my doubts. I remember telling Blackstone a week before the wedding that it was too late to call the whole thing off, but that if things didn't start turning around soon, I'd have no problem turning around and divorcing him. We both agreed to put all our fighting aside for the wedding and focus on the fact that everything with us had been good before and that we both believed it could be good again. I really enjoyed my wedding, and my wedding night, despite the fact that we'd barely spoken in weeks. Bookgirl likes to quote one of the guys that saw me partying my anger away at my bachelorette party, "Yeah, that marriage is going to last."
Things are not always what they appear.
Even though Polly grabbed my arm and told me not to do it right before I walked down the aisle. Even though after the JP asked for the rings, there was the tinkling sound of the ring dropping to the floor and rolling right to the edge of the deck. Despite the fact that after signing the third marriage certificate, even I was getting a little superstitious. And even after starting marriage counseling pretty much immediately following the ceremony, here we are ten years later. That ring is still on my finger, that marriage certificate is still binding, and Polly can still be seriously inappropriate.
A decade. Who knew.
Of course Blackstone is actually on his second wedding ring. He lost his something like six years ago now. He was doing a soil evaluation and was flinging dirt off his fingers in a six foot hole in the cold and rain. At first he was afraid to tell me. Then after a while he decided to see how long it would take me to notice it was missing . . . . Two years later I finally asked about it.
He wears the new one now when we go out. But he's left handed and he's taken to wearing it on his right hand, so technically he's out with his widow. Maybe it's easier to stay married when your wife is dead.