In a few minutes it will be the 4th of July. It will also be mine and Victor’s 17th anniversary.
I usually celebrate anniversaries with giant metal chickens, or unexpected sloths, or tiny kangaroos in the house, but this year I’m celebrating quietly and with dignity. Mostly because the live llama delivery place said they don’t work on holidays. And also because murderous gallbladders are taking up too much of my time this week. And because I think my husband deserves one small day of respite without dealing with the assorted insane shit that comes with being married to me.
See this picture?
It looks like a before-and-after picture done in reverse but it’s actually me and Victor at around 20, and me and Victor nearer to doubling that number. We’re older, less skinny, and we’ve perfected the art of bickering to the level that it’s a damn point of pride. We’ve traveled halfway around the world and back. We’ve seen howler monkeys in the deep jungles, canoed blindly through swamps, and watched entire seasons of Game of Thrones in a single night. We’ve seen each other at our worst and at our best, and whenever things seemed at their darkest one of us always said, “It will get better.”
And, somehow, it always did.
We’ve watched each other develop (and occasionally been the cause of ) new grey hairs and wrinkles as we wander this strange path with our wonderfully curious daughter, with our baffled families, and with you…our friends. Yes, you. If you’re reading this you are a part of our odd journey and I thank you for joining us on it.
Here’s to another 17 years.
I’ll see you on the other side.
PS. On the other side there are llamas.