Twenty-five years ago today, Bill and I were married. Second weddings are not like first weddings — in many respects. Our wedding was small, mostly family and a few friends. We were married at St. Vincent Catholic Church, presided over by Fr. Quang, at that time a fairly new priest, and now a monsignor. (I’m pretty sure Bill and I had something to do with that.) Court was just a kid of 12, but I chose him to walk me down the aisle. In all respects, our wedding was what I’d hoped for…..
I’m not going to get all gushy and say that I married my best friend, and it’s like we were married yesterday, and I would do it all again. All of those things are true, but they dismiss the reality that marriage is HARD. I won’t lie and tell you that we never had a fight in 25 years, or that we never went to bed angry. I’m pretty sure I went to bed angry about two weeks ago.
But since we were both divorced, we knew — beyond a shadow of a doubt — that we weren’t going to do that again. So even if we took the risk of going to bed angry (and don’t misunderstand; I don’t recommend that), we always managed to straighten things out in the end. It used to take longer because we took things more personally, I guess. Now we are both old enough to recognize that while there are a lot of things about which we disagree, life is short and you’d better pick your battles. So we do.
At the end of the day, the reality is I married a really good man. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, but when it came to picking out the man with whom I would spend the majority of my life, I done good.
So, happy anniversary to my good husband. What’s say we try for 25 more years!