Anniversaries

Today is Elephant Appreciation Day, National White Chocolate Day, and the International Day of Radiant Peace. 

It is also my 19th wedding anniversary.

Such a bittersweet day.   I am still married, so it still counts.  I doubt Pat remembers – he usually forgets.  Last year, he was in China (he’s back now from his trip – got back on Saturday.)  His not remembering is likely a small mercy.   In the last few years, we would take a little weekend anniversary trip, driving somewhere in Colorado – Leadville, Canon City, Pueblo (three years for the Chile Festival – the last year, we took Kelsea.)  But other than those trips, I don’t remember celebrating our anniversary often.

I was very proud of being married for so long.  In today’s society, it’s quite an achievement.  Two years ago, I was starting to plan a trip for us for our 20th anniversary – something really special, as the occasion was special.  Another dream gone…

I haven’t told any of my parents’ friends who still think of me about what’s going on.  One who has known me since birth, and who is a devout born-again Christian, sends us a religious card every year to mark our anniversary.  It came in the mail last week.  I feel compelled to tell my “Aunt” Florence about it – she would spread the word as appropriate to the others of their set.  I think she would understand.   As would my Uncle George (my real uncle).  I think one of his children has experienced similar problems, even if they didn’t result in divorce.

I also got a lovely little note today from Swinette, with whom I had a long talk on Sunday.  I thank her for her love and encouraging words, and for thinking of me.  Our talk made me realize again that we are all always every age.

This has been a month for anniversaries of various natures: 9/11, my Mother’s birthday, Kathy’s birthday, first day of fall, this anniversary – I am sure there are more I’m not mentioning.  I’m glad we essentially started the month in Montana – that was such a wonderful journey.  Kelsea’s and my annual mother/daughter Labor Day weekend trip is fast becoming a favorite tradition.

Yes, it’s an odd day.  I remember waking up 19 years ago, and not wanting to open my eyes because I was afraid the weather was going to be bad.  But it was a perfectly beautiful day, unlike today, when it is cold, with winter storm warnings in the mountains.  I remember my primal scream as Lynne drove me up the mountain, my perfect dress, the eagle flying overhead, the couple on the neighboring peak singing a cappella to us so beautifully, CJ palming the judge’s fee into his hand like it was a drug deal, the champagne and croissants that David had set up for us in the pine trees, Kenny’s photographs (he is dead now), climbing over the rocks to pee and trying to negotiate all those yards of chiffon without peeing on myself or falling down the mountain, how we both choked up, the old/new/borrowed/blue/sixpence (penny) in the shoe, how my family – who weren’t present – wore the boutonnieres I sent them, per instructions, at the same time we were having the ceremony (my grandmother loved that, and my E-Bro wore his while changing the oil in his car) – yellow roses and daisies. 

I remember how warm the sun and my future felt.

Maybe, someday, it will again.