Thirty-two Years and Counting

Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary (we had to tuck it into the Christmas break because of school). A lot has happened in 32 years, when I stop to think about it, and yet it also feels like no time at all. I lucked out in many ways when I agreed to marry He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. He's the world's best cook, for one thing. He keeps the house immaculate. He thinks of small things to delight me, simple stuff like bringing me home a treat after band practice, and he always puts his family first over himself. His meticulous bookkeeping has kept us afloat for decades, managing to stretch the pennies in some sort of loaves-and-fishes sleight of hand I don't understand but have come to rely on. I have confidence that he could handle any and every circumstance. He's tireless and broad-visioned and hard-working. He's smart and stubborn and loves to learn and explore. He has mentored many music students who have gone on to accomplish wonderful things. He can build furniture, quilt beautifully, speak Italian, and make pasta from scratch.

It was sheer luck I stumbled across the newspaper article that led me to the BYU Bagpipe Club where I met him. What would have become of my life if I hadn't seen that? Would I be in Canada right now? Would I have the three wonderful kids and two lovely grandchildren I now have? It's a bit staggering to think how much rode on that one small coincidence.

Happy anniversary, sweetie, and here's to 32 more.