A Crystal Anniversary Message

Dear Handy,

We met on a wintry March weekend 18 years ago. It was graduate school interview weekend.You remembered me because you were disappointed in my interview skills.

What can I say? Long before I was a career development professional, I didn't realize, "I have a tattoo." was not the appropriate response to the interview question,"Tell me about yourself."

I didn't remember you at all.

We were re-introduced in the heat of the summer. You were, once again, unimpressed, this time with my lowly part-time staff status at the museum, as compared to your much more important role as a summer intern.

I was unimpressed with your chain smoking.

Then, on one fateful evening, at the bar next to Fu-kin John, the only Chinese food restaurant in town, the smoke billowing around you parted and I was suddenly intrigued by your total nerd/ bad boy persona. I still don't know what you saw in me -although I was wearing those ever popular, late '90's overalls that night.

Betters bet that we wouldn't last. Your parents asked you, repeatedly, if I was really the one. My uncle got drunk at Christmas and, repeatedly, called you the wrong name.

You've remained un-phased and confident in all things marriage, time and again. For example: when my college friends introduced themselves by saying, "We've seen your girlfriend naked more times than you," and again, several years later, when they crowded around you while you carefully demonstrated to them how to wipe poop out of your baby's vagina.

You have saved my life too many times to count. You have protected me from my own self-destructive behavior. You have protected me from other's destructive behavior toward me.

Thank you for giving me the Heimlich at the sushi restaurant.

I started referring to you as Daddy to two small people we created. You had the hand I gripped, and shoulder I leaned upon, while I birthed them. I'm sorry I asked you to get in the birthing tub with me and I'm thankful you refused. Did you ever imagine you'd be scooping your wife's poop out of a birthing tub with a big water cup?

I was so proud of you yesterday, when I got a text from Caro's behavior specialist after the special ed meeting I couldn't go to because I had to work, and I quote, "I think Andy did a great job handling the period talk today!"

Did you ever imagine talking to a group of half a dozen female educators about menstruation?

I know the food you'll order at a restaurant. I know the songs you listen to most when you mow the lawn. I know you will always be late and you'll take at least 20 minutes in the bathroom. I know you will mispronounce words that end in -ern and you will tell me you are going to jump into the shower though I've never actually seen you jump.

You are woven into the fabric of my being. You linger in the edges of my thoughts throughout the day. I have to erase the "y" I instinctively write every time I type the word "and."

What's our secret? I have no answer. We are no role models and no self-help book has provided us with our secrets to a successful marriage. I am too old, and not naive enough, to think that we will definitely "live happily ever after." There is no guarantee.

On this day, we celebrate 15 years of marriage. The crystal anniversary representing our clear and sparkling love.

You are not home to celebrate with me because you are at work. I know when you return home later this week, you will not gift me crystal but instead with random items you've won in a raffle basket and maybe give me the same card you gave me last year and the year before. I will tell you I hate them and then will secretly covet all of it.

I didn't get you anything because I'll tell you that you buy whatever you want but it's really because I'm afraid I'll buy you something silly. Did you ever watch that Sea Biscuit DVD I got you for Valentine's Day?

Thank you for plunging the toilet for me and putting the kids to bed so I can get to sleep early. Thank you for driving on all of the long trips and picking up the garbage in my car. Thank you for always cleaning up the cat poo. Thank you for being you.

Love,

Melissa