One year in our lives seems so small. There it is: 365 days. 12 months. Some years stretch on and on like a river; some flit by like a moth's flight.
And then some years remind us of something more than time. This year of my life is one of the most important--one that will stand out in my small history. It is the first year of marriage.
The first year of marriage is probably not as important as the tenth, or the thirtieth. It is the easy times--lazy Saturdays and wishful dreaming. The first year is the indication of what is to come. Our first year has been an upheaval of life--marriage, mortgages, moving. But it has also been a year of love.
In one year of marriage, I have learned the following about Michael: he will buy me coffee in the morning just to get me out of bed, even when he doesn't need to leave the house. He will bend over backwards to accommodate my schedule and my diet. He will rub my feet and scratch my back. He will attend yarn shops with me and without me, indulging every fiber desire. And at night, he will place his hand lightly on my hip as we drift off to sleep. He will laugh at my inane thoughts as though they are meaningful. On my birthday, he will shower me with gifts and hugs and smiles.
Even when he is sad, Michael will smile for me. He takes every opportunity to tell me how much he loves me. This is a marriage of friendship, of constancy, of childlike faith. I could not ask for more.
There is often a pause in a relationship, when one retires to the bedroom and considers life and all of its inconsistencies. And many can find displeasure in their relationships. This is normal. I would not harbor ill will against Michael if he has done this: I am stubborn and usually in my own world. I can be argumentative and snobbish. I can be dull and listless. And on weekends, I don't shower. But I would also wager that Michael has never had these thoughts of doubt or disappointment. He has always met me as I am.
And so, in one year, I have learned about symbiosis in its most platonic way: Michael and I are a Form of this relationship; we've many roads to walk together, and we acknowledge there may come a time when we will wish to walk apart. But we cannot imagine such a time. Where he goes, so shall I. Where he sleeps, so I will rest. And when he needs me, there I will be.
This year has been a year of firsts. It has lengthened and shortened like tides, bringing us out to sea and taking us back to shore. But there is raft that supports us, and makes us giggle at the waves which toss us. To love Michael is to love the world that created him. It is what makes me believe in people, this love.
It could not be more simple nor more complex. I am glad to be his wife.
