18 and Counting

No. Not kids. I’ll leave that craziness to those Duggars. 

I’m counting years of marriage to this guy. 

We’ve been together for 20 years. I almost can’t fathom that. We have been together longer in our lives than we have been apart. We met when I was 17, and he was dating my best friend. A few answers:
No, she and I are no longer friends (my bad)
Yes, he was totally worth it
And, yes he is still a handsome beast. He’s better actually, because now he’s more than just a pretty face. 
We went out on the town these last couple days. We packed every minute full of something; my Firefighter doesn’t appreciate down time, yet. I’m confident he will come to love naps as much a I do soon. 
But after 18 years I realized a few things. Dates aren’t always wild times on the town. I mean, who are we kidding here? There’s nothing overly wild about me next to my hairs. I’m a good girl, I am. So it made sense that we began our date with a meeting with the lender. We are trying to buy a house, and it made sense that we should meet. I mean, we had the sitter. Then we got a smog check, went to the bank, went and registered our car and tent trailer, and finally made it to the hotel where I asked if I could take a nap. Mr. No Downtime was against it. I powered through and got into my cute clothes. 
I was a little worried for us. I’m amazed that I still get butterflies about that guy. I think it’s actually a plus that I get excited when I hear him pull his jeep into my driveway. And sometimes, even though you know me as the wittiest conversationalist this side of New Hampshire, sometimes I have to think of things to talk about with this guy. I still don’t know what he’s thinking in there, behind those quiet eyes. 

We talk kids, work, plans, and we reminisce. And then it gets quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just quiet. Maybe we are rubbing off on each other: I will learn that there can be pauses in conversation and he can learn to nap. 

Any way you recap this midweek getaway, it was great. I remember how much I love and want and need this guy. And he takes time to hold my door and hold my hand and sit in the freezing cold so I can watch baseball. 

He’s my lobster (Phebe from Friends). We used to be so different. Different families. Different values. Different goals. But we are the same now. 

If you’re a bird I’m a bird, mister. Happy anniversary, Husband.