This week it passed rather quietly, thanks to quarantine: our 20th anniversary. Holy moly, it’s weird to be this old. (Though yeah, marrying at 19 and 20 years old–that happens.)
But this is what I loved, guys. Even as I typed away at work, as you woke up and poured cereal and forgot to put bowls in the dishwasher, my insides felt like I was bubbling over with liquid gratitude.
Who did you think you’d marry?
My husband–I unearthed this a few years into our marriage, when we finally had the fortitude to be more vulnerable with each other–thought he’d marry someone more athletic. (I am laughing out loud as I type. Poor guy.) To his credit, when he met me, I was running every morning, performing pushups and situps at night. We played intermural sports and pickup games of soccer together. We hiked together. And to my own credit, I still live an active lifestyle. But none of these has approved the actual coordination factor.
(My parents laugh about me as a child falling repeatedly into the same hole in the yard on my way over to the bus each morning. I do not share these memories. And one has to ask, if it were true: Why did no one ever fill in said hole?)
Let us hope that we are all preceded in this world by a love story.
–Sweet Land (PG, 2005)
I tease my husband (the poor introvert!). Because whenever I write about him—he, who washes his hands of anything to do with internet attention—readers eat. It. Up.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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