Mark and I celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary this past week. And while it's hard to believe that 13 years have breezed by, it seems like we've been a part of each other forever. As though there was no pre-Mark, just always Mark. That in the time before we knew each other, we were both getting ready for one another. That everything that had happened in our lives before we met was preparing us for this love of our lifetimes.
We celebrated with a hike up Mill Creek Canyon in the morning, lunch on the patio at Ruth's Diner, and in the evening, a bottle of champagne in the garden.
It was a pristine day--warm and sunny, much unlike the day we got married, which was cold and rainy.
And we remembered, the rain that fell, buckets and buckets of it on our altar of wildflowers. And we remembered, the clouds that parted and cleared just as the ceremony was about to begin. And still we remembered, the family and friends who had gathered under the elm tree, the umbrellas that were offered as a smattering of lingering drops punctuated our vows, and that kiss, that first matrimonial kiss like blue sky on every horizon.
The children who played in the garden. The Debussy that no one could hear. The delicious food we had no time to eat. Our flower-daughters crying as we departed on our honeymoon.
The walk he insisted we take alone in the meadow.
The tears we shed together while dancing to our song.
The beginnings of a love whose eventual depth we could not know nor even now perceive.
The somewhere-over-the-rainbow I've been wishing for all my life.