Bon Anniversaire, extraordinary gagfest

Joel and I celebrated our seventh anniversary on Sunday, December 30th.

Our celebration was fancy, as it always is this time of year in our post-Christmas stupor and general exhaustion.  Instead of an intricate meal or a paid night out, we relaxed and filled up on many extra kisses, I Love You's, our usual bouts of laughter, and mystified "has it really only been seven years???" wonderings.  Our shameless flirting, while already a daily occurrence, punctuated an already serene day.

We conflict on where to put clutter (Joel says kitchen counters; I say the side pockets of car doors and anywhere we can stuff in a closet), and are not deeply interested in many of the same things.  We are more different than we are the same, and I am glad.  Those differences are what have sharpened me, improved me, made me worthier of spending forever by his side.

Each year on our Anniversary, the thought flutters around in my mind that our love can't possibly swell beyond what we are already enjoying.  And each succeeding year, I am proven wrong.

We're settling into each other with the comfort and familiarity of a well-cherished book. 

"I love you, really a lot," I effused quietly the other night as Joel and I were going to sleep. 

"I know that, you know," he smiled and held me tighter.  

"Really, you do?"  

"Really."

I knew he knew it.  But I said it for me, anyway.  Like opening a box and fingering a secret, glowing, treasure, I discover a new part of my soul each time I use those words with meaning.

We've accomplished a lot in our lifetimes and the last seven years together:  schooling, jobs, moves, children.  But I think my greatest accomplishment will forever be getting Joel Johnson to marry me for eternity.