Monday, 26 July 2010

Nine Years

Will you take this man to be a constant pain in your ass?  To snore, to always forget to put the BBQ cover back on, and to piss with the door open?  Do you promise to tolerate him, even on days when you really don’t want to, as long as you both shall live?

I do.  

Will you take this woman to be the most wonderful/frustrating thing that ever happened to you?  To be a relentless backseat driver, to make you do your own laundry, and to irrationally nag at you pretty much all the days of your life?  Do you promise to accept the fact that you are always wrong (even if you aren't) as long as you both shall live?

I do.

I now pronounce you husband and wife.  (Suckers… ) 

The thing is, for some people, the “I dos” don’t change anything.  For Hubby and I, not one iota of our lives was altered by the vows.  (Except that I started referring to him as “Hubby”… but then again, I kinda did that anyway.) 

We’ve been wed-locked for almost a year now, but it really doesn’t matter.  We’ve been living together for nearly six, and been putting up with each other for nine altogether.  

Nine years.  Today, in fact.  

Nine years ago today, a 16-year old Hubby asked me if I would “go out with him”.  Nine years ago today, I kissed him for the first time on my mother’s front porch. (He’ll say he kissed me – LIES).  Nine years ago today, our lives changed – our lives really started.  

And yet, it feels like much longer.  Has it really only been nine years that my life has revolved around his?  Has it really only been nine years since we were those lost little kids so ass-over-head in love?  Only nine years since he picked me up every day after school in his Gran’s 1988 white Chevy Cavalier?  A lifetime has passed.  

And now, nine years later, my life revolves around his even more.  And we are still, I think, ridiculously, pathetically, embarrassingly, and honestly in love.  And he still picks me up when I work late, only it's in a 1998 red Chevy Silverado.  

It’s really been no time at all.  Only a fraction of our life together.  We have at least 50 more years to constantly bicker about EVERYTHING, and to hog the covers, and to put up with each other's irrationalities, unconditionally, as long as we both shall live.  And even longer than that, no doubt.  

Nine years.  Not that long, really.  But long enough to come so far, to change so much.  But somehow not long enough to be long enough.  Not long enough to call it forever.  Not long enough to get it down-pat, to stop making mistakes, to make it perfect.  But not long enough to get utterly sick of each other either.  

Nine years.  Oddly nestled somewhere between the tiniest fraction of time and the longest forever after.  

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