Happy Anniversary to My Sweetie

It is our 9th wedding anniversary today. I must look it up to see whether this is the plastic peestick anniversary. Yes, I have been continuing with them. The novelty has not worn off yet.

Normally on our anniversary, we are on holiday.

Last year we were in our fave hotel in Amsterdam.

Two years ago, it was Fleet Week and Memorial Day in NYC.

Three years ago, it was Paris, the City of Light and I refused to climb up the Eiffel tower.

This year I have plastic peesticks and a demolished kitchen and I could not be happier.

I like to have a bit of an occasion on our anniversary to commemorate our long journey together.

We met in high school in 1977, I was 11 and you were 13. We bonded over a shared love of New Wave music and I laughed at your hair.

We stayed close friends even whilst I fell in love with another, got engaged at 20 and then jilted him aged 21, on the precipice of wedding plans.

You were always there, my faithful rock, even when I turned away from you into other men's arms.

14 years ago in 1992, I returned from living in England and we rekindled our closeness in a winter of Arctic temperatures and I realised I was falling in love with you. You told me that you had always loved me but you were waiting for me to catch up and realise it. I finally did.

It took us another 5 years to reach the altar as I was ideologically opposed to the shackles of marriage and I did not want to relinquish my independence and do what is expected of all the other women in my narrow-minded small home town.

What I foolishly did not understand was that marriage with you would be like coming home. With a contented sigh. With a loving wink. With a long exhale.

Every time I go to the clinic on the train, I turn away from the sea and look up the hill towards the tiny church where I was christened in December 1965 and then married to you on that day in May 1997. As we pass by it, I wish upon its spire that I can always have you in my life and I am so thankful for every day.

Yes, we have our niggling arguments and petty squabbles but I feel blessed to have you in my life. You are my smile when I cannot and my laugh when I cannot and my anchor when I feel untethered.

29 years later, here we are and I still laugh at your hair and we still listen to 70s music on the iPod. I hope you have gotten a fraction of the happiness and joy out of this journey as I have, my darling.