Today we’ve been married for eight years. At 5:15 this morning you said goodbye, and I watched from the window as I do every morning, and you turned to wave as you do every morning. Twenty minutes later the phone rang and you said, voice shaking, I’m okay.
Someone ran a red light as you were cruising through your green light and they hit the end of your truck, three feet past your door, and the tire shredded and the frame twisted and you spun around before you stopped. And then you called, and my heart stopped. You were okay.
I thought about that moment the rest of the day. Last year I called our anniversary “lucky seven”. This year was the lucky one. I’m lucky to have you. We’re lucky to have you in this house, in this life. Sometimes we tend to think that luck isn’t on our side, that the things that we want and we try aren’t working out as we hoped. But the three of us sitting together in that restaurant tonight, the two of us curled up on the couch for a late movie, the little one asleep with her book in her hand…we’re lucky, so very lucky.
Happy Anniversary. The next one need not be so exciting.