Yesterday I went to a birthday party. It was a serious birthday, a landmark, and even for a successful young mother with three kids, it had an impact. So what did her sweet husband do? He made her a present, with the help of his 5 year old son. I don't want to violate their privacy with a description; just know that it was something that only someone who knew her well could have given her.
It was quite moving to watch her open her gift; presented in the 12th year of their marriage. I kept thinking that I was already married for three years when she was born; that their journey still has such a long way to go and that we had learned so much in the years still before them.
We've been through chronic disease and heart disease, financial crisis and seven moves, two children, the loss of all four of our parents, extraordinary travel, deep friendships, huge lifestyle changes and daily complications. And every one of them added a brick to the house. Every child's birth, and birthday, and graduation and wedding; every torn knee, broken shoulder or opened heart — all the things that make up a life — they're what a marriage is made of.
Not very profound, but true. The power of a shared history is the foundation – or at least a foundation, of a good marriage, and it gets stronger with every day. That's all.
Except that those two on the left are celebrating their wedding, September 12, 1971. And I'm one of them
