Sometimes, I awake in the middle of the night from dreaming of you. I think to myself, I haven’t written Merritt in forever—or called him, or anything! I miss him! And then I remember—I’m married to you! You are sleeping right next to me!
It washes over me anew then, as I snuggle up to your sleeping, snoring frame—the wonder, the delight, the joy of being married to my best friend. It’s the wonder of our wedding day, magnified ten-fold, because I am married to you and I know how wonderful it is.
I don’t ever want to forget that feeling. We may be old married people now, celebrating five years today. But five years and three children later, I only love you more. And while some days are crazy, some days are chaotic, it’s still and always a joy being yours.
And when we share those long slow kisses in the middle of the kitchen, the crying children and the unwashed laundry and dishes fade out of the scene for a moment, and we’re newlyweds once more. When we come back to reality, it’s with the reminder that we don’t ever want to forget the way it felt that day five years ago; we don’t ever want to stop acting like newlyweds even though we might really be old married people.
I love you, handsome husband of mine. Thank you for the five best years of my life. Here’s to many more, with God’s help.
[P.S. Five years can’t be summed up in just five minutes—but I almost did it.]