Happy anniversary. We’ve been married for eleven years now.
I was thinking this morning about what makes us work. After all, we’ve got a good thing going. I started to make a list. But then the list got really long, and it didn’t seem wise to spend our entire anniversary writing down all the reasons we’re better together. So I picked eleven words. Eleven words for eleven years.
Believe the best, remember tomorrow will come, and lean into absurdity.
Believe the best. A few years into our marriage, I realized you’re not set on ruining my life. I know . . . I should have figured that out before we got married. But those early years were difficult and sometimes it felt like it was you against me. Now I’m convinced that even when we’re arguing, you’re almost always fighting for me.
I like you a lot. If you weren’t my husband, I’d still choose you as one of my best friends. Every day, you offer me your wisdom, compassion, and support. I’m a kinder, smarter, and better adult with you by my side. Plus you’re a better cook than me, and I need that in my life.
Remember tomorrow will come. Perspective is everything. One of the greatest gifts of the past eleven years has been the lesson that often the things I think matter most don’t matter for the long-term. Loading the dishwasher can wait. Houses can be fixed. Pain and sickness eventually go away. In the moments when we don’t get along, I remember we won’t be mad at each other forever.
I feel absolutely confident going into tomorrow with you. In eleven years, we’ve handled so much together. And it’s been pretty amazing.
Lean into absurdity. Not everything in life makes sense. I don’t understand why we don’t have kids yet or why life can be so dang messy. Sometimes we come home from vacation and an hour later you’ve already discovered a broken window, turned off the water to a leaking toilet, and bludgeoned a copperhead to death in our driveway. Those aren’t exactly my favorite days, but I guarantee I’ll never be able to tell the story of you killing that snake with an eight-foot board without tears streaming down my face.
And as if life weren’t enough, there’s all the laughter we create. In our house, the jokes are nonstop. We’ve renamed all the fast food chains. Our nightly routine involves more giggling than a middle school girls’ sleepover. We’ve created a world in which our dog aspires to be a screenwriter and claims to have an on-again-off-again friendship with Hank Azaria.
This can’t be normal.
Occasionally, I get frustrated with you for trying to be funny in certain moments. Even as I giggle, I fuss at you and say, “This is no time to joke.” But let’s be honest, when I’m in that kind of mood, that’s when I need to laugh the most.
I love you, Timmy. I’m so glad you are you and that you’re mine.
P.S. – Amelie told me this morning that Hank was once married to Helen Hunt, creating a love triangle with her other BFF Paul Reiser. At first I thought she was making this up, but I Googled it and it’s true.