If someone had told me on my wedding day just how quickly the years would flow by, I don't think I would have been equipped to comprehend or fully appreciate it. In fact, I'm fairly certain that at least one or two people did tell me things to that effect, but the bartender at the reception poured those drinks way, way too heavy, which is my official excuse for not being entirely clear about who said what to whom, other than that Liz and I both said yes to a life together. And really, with that, does anything else matter?
So, it has been five years, or maybe one thousand eight hundred and twenty-six days, nearly 43,824 hours, which is practically 2,629,440 minutes--157,766,400 seconds!--of married life. Exactly one half of a decade, one twentieth of a century, a two-hundredth of a millennium. What to say on such an occasion?
I find that the depth of my love is such that it surpasses my meager vocabulary; my chances of repeating myself become pretty significant over time. This paragraph is the replacement for one that suddenly, unbidden, had become almost a word-for-word duplicate of a post from May on the occasion of our six-year "hookupaversary." While such repetition may make for redundant and potentially boring reading, I think there's something to be said for consistency in matters of the heart; for feeling the same joy in May or November or July; whether the skies are crisp and blue, or grey and stormy; whether the sun smiles radiantly upon us, or we're huddled under blankets by the fire while the winter blows cold and icy outside. Maybe it's not such a bad thing that what that I've said before is just as appropriate and meaningful today on this perfect Autumn morning.
Quite simply, this true, abiding, eternal love that I have had the good fortune to stumble into kicks serious ass.
Love you, honey, for always and ever.
- Mood: twitterpated
- Music: REM - "Belong"