Today is our anniversary. The Hubbs and I have been married for seven years. We just finished brunch, and funny enough, he asked me if I have the ability to make memories come alive. The short answer is yes, I can.
Little does he know how often I relive the moment that we met. I can smell the smoke in the air of the bar, the cold chill and sweet smell of smoke machines. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and not knowing if it’s from the bass in the music, or from the rush of adrenaline as I tried to work up the nerve to walk over and say hi. I knew the second that I laid eyes on him, that he would be significant in my life. I can’t say I knew we’d be where we are today, but I remember thinking
“He is going to mean a lot to me.” And he does. He has given me my world.
I remember the look in his eyes the first time he told me that he loves me, and asked me to move in with him. It’s the same depth I saw when he was down on bended knee asking me to marry him. When he proposed, my breath caught in my chest. I had tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. Today, I feel the same shortness, the same tears threatening. I’m smiling.
The day we were married, everything was a frenzy. My family arrived early, my mother brought food (as always). My best friend was a witness. I remember how honored I was that she would take the time on her birthday, her own special day, to be a part of my happiest day. I was so emotional, so harried, that I know I didn’t even convey half of my gratitude for her.
When Medium was born, the Hubbs tried to stay with me as much as possible. I was so scared when he couldn’t stand to be in the room for my epidural. I was so disappointed in myself for not being able to withstand the pain. It broke what was left of my resolve that he left me with the anesthesiologist and nurses. It meant the world to me when, after he came back into the room, he told me how proud of me he was.
He is my strength, my rock. He’s the one that keeps me grounded. I’m a kite constantly reaching for the heavens, always dreaming, sometimes going off half-cocked. The Hubbs is the one that keeps a steady grip on my string, making sure that I don’t fly too high. Making sure that I will always find my way back down to him, and make my way back home.
I see our daughters in his chair with him, snuggled under pink and purple blankets. Everyone snoring, in what look to be the most uncomfortable positions possible.
I smell cupcakes, cookies, and cakes fresh out of our oven. With little hands reaching for icing and sprinkles decorating treats just so for Daddy. “For me?” he asks. “Yes Daddy!” they cry excitedly. “Oh thank you. They look yummy!” he answers.
The girls are running across our yard, hair catching the sun, to ride on the mower with him. “Daddy! Daddy! I wanna ride!”
We are all on a blanket, shaded under a tall tree in the backyard, enjoying a picnic of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cheese curls, Kool-Aid and popsicles. The girls make sure everyone has napkins, even Daddy (although he protests that he has pants for napkins), they giggle at his silliness. After lunch, there is a large tickle fight until the girls run off to play on their play set. The Hubbs and I watch them, in their youthful enthusiasm, grins on our faces. I find myself wondering if they’ll feel the same butterflies, pounding heart, and breathlessness I did when I first met their father.
So yes, Papi, I can make memories come alive. Happy Anniversary my Love.
|Photo courtesy of Mary Decrescenzio Photography.|