This is late. I've spent too long at work and doing the mom thing today and I really wanted to spend time to write a really great post. You see, it's my 25th anniversary today. I've been married to the same man for the last 25 years. I really hope we make it another 25.
Valentine's Day is all about romance, the heart-pounding chocolate'n'flowers kind of romance. Hollywood romance where fireworks go off when you kiss. Or is it? True romance is more than kissing, more than expensive gifts, more than butterflies in your belly when you hold hands. True romance lasts through sleepless nights and cleaning up kid vomit four times in the middle of the night and changing diapers for nineteen straight years. True romance sees past the extra weight and wrinkles to the soul inside. True romance is part commitment, part stubbornness, part friendship, and yes, part butterflies-in-the-belly. True romance is in it for the long haul, not just until the fireworks are over.
Marriage is tough. It requires a lot of work and a lot of dedication. But it's worth the struggle and the effort. It's worth the tears and trials. I trust my husband implicitly. He's my sweetheart and my best friend. He's my support when no one else will listen or understand. He's not perfect, but then, neither am I.
The most romantic thing he ever said to me? I have to set this one up.
Picture a chilly early spring evening. The kids are finally in bed, all five of them. I'm eight months pregnant and feeling huge. I'm dressed in my ratty old flannel granny gown. He looks at me as I'm brushing my teeth and says, "Do you know how beautiful you are?" My first response was to tell him to put his glasses back on, but I stifled it in time. He meant every word and it touched me more than a dozen roses or poetry or even ten pounds of chocolate. He makes me feel beautiful, even when the world tells me I'm not.
So, to my valentine today, may we spend another twenty-five years together. And may we find happiness in each one.