When you’re young, you think the future ahead is literally endless. When the milestones begin to happen (turning 21, getting married, having children) you begin to think about how fortunate you are to be blessed with so much joy in your life alongside a partner whose unconditional love allows you to stay true to who you are. Then when middle age shows up, you realize that you’re likely midway along on the conveyor belt of life. Your kids go off to college… and you take comfort in knowing that they’ve earned their wings and now it’s their time to soar. As they accumulate their own milestones, you reflect on how fast the years have gone by. Surely it was only yesterday that those very milestones they are now celebrating were yours…the memories are still so crisp and clear. But alas, middle age is in the rear view mirror as ‘senior’ status begins the new chapter.
The prism of my life continues to rotate as it reflects clearly so much adventure, so much growth, so much overall joy and so much love that it’s difficult to articulate the true depth of how I feel. 41 years of marriage is an accomplishment to be sure, but 41 years of partnership, through the great times as well as the challenging times, has only strengthened our bond in a way that’s special beyond words.
Happy Anniversary to us 💞.
Here’s to another 41 years 🥂
Back on our wedding day, exactly 40 years ago today, this milestone was nothing more than a vision in the far distant haze of life.
I asked him tonight what his most memorable memories were (aside from the birth of our three kids of course) over the past 40 years. After a few moments of pondering he said “This will come as a surprise to you…” It was a day we’d spent, years ago when the kids were young, at the beach on South Padre Island. Kids were having a blast, and the weather was perfect. I remember it pretty well. Turns out, he clearly recalls that he’d wished we could just stay there forever.
The second thing he mentioned was an even bigger surprise to me. It was the day I had to say a very emotional farewell to my horse, who was going to a new home. We were living in southern California then, and while making the long drive home from the barn for that final time, I’d called him at work from my car. I was crying so hard on the phone, I had difficulty getting the words out. Geoff had never had any interest in the whole horse thing, but had always tried to be a good sport about it for me, because I was heavily IN it. Which is why I was so surprised to hear him say tonight that the memory of that phone call stands out prominently in his mind.
Over the decades, he’s cheered me on in my accomplishments, both professional and personal, and been supportive of every decision I’ve ever made, including the tough decisions that cancer has thrown my way. Four decades ago, I couldn’t have wished for anything more. He’s everything to me, and then some.