Letters From Narnia

Don’t give me fancy flowers. If I never have another rose, I won’t be sad. Don’t give me chocolates or romantic dinners in gourmet restaurants. For the rest of my life, if I never eat another chocolate or attend a gala dinner, I could still be happy. All I want is his warm hand holding mine as we walk down our path together. All I want is for him to take my face into his hands and pour all his love from his eyes into mine. I like to think that he was molded up in Heaven while I was a lonely little girl, staring up at the stars at night, wishing to find a family that would love me the way I love them. But he was already running around in his lederhosen by then, growing up all the way across the world, in the mountains.

I used to take our time for granted. Weekends sometimes felt a little boring, sleeping in, reading quietly, making dinner together, working in the garden. I used to think maybe my life was too quiet, too uneventful. Then we got a little shake up with that cancer thing last year, and we found ourselves wishing for boring, wishing for a worry-free life. Last year’s wedding anniversary was a “I’m alive! We made it! Yay!” anniversary, where we just clung to each other, grateful for the chance. Today, we have had a whole year of enjoying every day, a whole year of savouring just sitting on the back porch together, in the sunshine, listening to the quiet breezes drift through the forest. We learned how to fish, we went camping, we took long wandering walks in the woods. This has been a year of deep content. I am truly thankful.

But I want more. With your favourite food, you crave it until you overindulge and then can’t even stand the smell of it. With your favourite music, you play it until you get sick of it. Everything in my life to this moment has been that way. Except this love. This love has made us work hard for 19 years, but the joy and passion we create is ambrosia. Through tears, through frustrations, through misunderstandings, we learned how to be good people, to be kind to each other. And as each year passed, our roots went deeper, intertwining. Our union has produced 3 of the most beautiful precious beings we could ever give to the world. And our struggles, from petty things like snoring, to having serious talks about how one parent might have to go on without the other…raising children alone…those struggles have shown our children that love is everything. Love isn’t just flowers or romantic dinners once a year. Love is every day. Love is putting in earplugs if the snoring is too bad. Love is taking out the garbage. Love is taking turns being the soft parent when the other has to be the hard parent. Love is admitting when we are wrong and apologizing. Love is in the cold washcloth gently wiping away the sweat and tears of pain. Love is never forgetting to tell each other how we are treasured…every day.

So I have it, this love. I am fully aware of how rare it is, how most people may never find just the right person, or just the right way to dance with that person. I know we earned this happiness; it didn’t just fall into our laps. We earn it every day. And just like from a well-tended garden, our love is wonderful produce. There is no more taking for granted. Each minute slows so we can savour it. I take photographs so I can look back and remember that sunny day better, the smiles in the photo bringing me to to that very moment. Having this love comes with insecurity, worry over the future. I see the silver coming into his hair, I hold my breath before my 6month wellness checkups; I have daily reminders that it won’t last forever. Then, my blood tests come back clean and we celebrate. Or he earns a promotion and we celebrate. Or it’s just Friday and we celebrate.

Today is a special day. 19 years ago, on a pristine beach in Carmel, flanked by baby Emily on one side, and the most handsome groom I could ever imagine on my other side, I didn’t think I could ever have a happier moment for the rest of my life. Never have I ever been so glad to be wrong. Time has softened us, has greyed and wrinkled us. But that man I married has transformed into a man that glows from within. He is so beautiful my heart hurts. Sometimes I feel his eyes on me, and I look up to find the love shining from him, so palpable I feel I could reach out and hold it in my hands.

On Sunday, Markus flies away to Seattle to begin his new job. The kids and I are staying behind while they finish school. I struggle with the pride I feel for the rewards he has earned from his hard work, while I am already missing him so much my heart hurts. We are each other’s touchstone. When the outside world is too harsh, we turn to each other and there is comfort. When there are times to celebrate, we turn to each other for the big hugs and the jumping up and down. No matter what the situation, we turn to each other. For 22 days, we are going to have to settle for some virtual hugs and love through Facetime and emails. Between now and Sunday, I will be giving him kisses for him to keep in storage. Today won’t have fireworks or chocolates or flowers, it will be even better than that. Today will be pure love; just cherishing the quiet reading, holding hands, walking the dog, and whatever else a perfectly uneventful day will bring. Happy Anniversary to my Love. May we always be hungry for more.