Five years ago today, I became a wife.
When I was younger, and single, I never knew what people meant when they said they love their spouse more today than they did the day they married them. For me, hearing that, made me feel bad for those people, like I felt like they were getting slighted in their marriages. How can you not absolutely love your spouse 100% on your wedding day?
Until, that is, I got married, and lived the years in my marriage.
There's no way to prepare yourself for this. Wedding days are only a down-payment of the love and commitment you'll put toward your life together. It's the smallest, smallest, fraction of what you'll be as the long days and quick years stack up. It's the biggest act of blind faith you'll ever commit.
And if you're lucky, as lucky as I am ... you'll have taken that flying leap of faith and promised commitment with someone like I have.
Someone who no matter what the circumstance, says, "we'll figure it out. We'll get through it. We'll prepare for it. We'll manage it," so there is no doubt in your mind that you'll ever be alone.
Someone whose emails and texts that say, "God, I love you," unglue you. The love contained. The passion.
Someone who knows you better than you know yourself, but doesn't gloat about it. The silent strength.
Someone like my husband.
Five years ago, we got married in front of 268 of our family and friends. We boarded a plane for Maui two days later, still punch-drunk on newlywed love and exhaustion. We talked about five years from then, how we would return to the land of sun, Mai Tais, and never-ending ocean.
Except, we're not returning. Not this year, not yet.
And you know what? That does not matter.
I'd spend our anniversary at a Super 8 in Wahpeton, North Dakota, if it meant spending it with you.
Instead, we're heading to a sweet, quiet town on the river between our state and the next.
Just the two of us.
Me, more in love with you, than the day I married you.