it’s strange. at sixteen, one year is a huge deal.
perhaps even moreso at seventeen.
i suppose even now, from twenty one to twenty two, one year can be a big deal.
but marriage–one year seems to breeze by like the snap of your fingers, or a single breath.
i’ve been married for a year.
i hardly feel old enough to be capable of buying alcohol, should the impulse strike.
but here it is. one year older, one year of marriage down.
here are some things i have learned:
one. weight will be gained. confidence will drop. health should take priority over junk food-heavy tv marathons (yes, i’m looking at you, smallville.)
two. feelings will get hurt. his, mine, other people’s. it happens–usually due to a silly communication breakdown. communication is key.
three. sleeping alone will never be the same. nothing will ever top waking up to his arms pulling me tight against him. particularly as the weather finally begins to see reason and cool down.
four. spending time together means more than existing in the same space. keeping the tv on, the music on, phones grasped tightly at all times–that is not spending time together. that is a recipe for feeling lonely and undervalued.
five. money is awkward. money is shared property, and should be treated as such. though it may be touchy, talk about it. plan it out. work on selfless behavior, and give up any lingering “me, me, me” mentality. promise it’s worth it.
six. change will happen. you might be a bit more stressed, or your interests might shift. you know what? whatever anyone might say, that is okay. change is healthy, change is normal. don’t be afraid to grow.
seven. go. to. sleep. i know this goes against the ever so traditional advice of “never go to bed angry” but go to bed angry. the fight may be motivated by exhaustion to begin with. go to sleep; i guarantee the problem will look smaller by morning.
and now, a few more pictures. or maybe many more. you know–whichever.
a brief stop in jerome. a large, old thing behind us. shameful–we didn’t actually read a word about it.
waiting for dinner and photographic evidence that i really ought to start wearing my retainers.
again, waiting for dinner. longest my hair has been since it brushed my thighs as a seven year old.
we were a bit confused.
doesn’t quite do it justice.
a little better.