My husband and I celebrated 30 years of marriage this past weekend. It seems like yesterday that our kids surprised us with a big, back-yard shindig for our 25th. At the time, we renewed our vows surrounded by family and friends. I wore my wedding dress, which is not as big a deal as it sounds. Polyester knit is much more forgiving than today’s corseted glories!
Our 30th was a quieter, intimate affair. We went to a favourite bistro with our matron of honour and best man, and reminisced about the years behind us. Our children grew up together. We were “aunts” and “uncles” all around, the divide between family and friends easily forgotten. Weekly phone calls have kept us in touch with the goings on of our respective clans. Visits were always fewer than we wanted, but cherished all the more. With real friends, there’s no need for re-acquaintances. You pick up where you left off.
The following day we were treated to a barbecue by our eldest son and his wife. They are counting the days to the birth of our first grand-child. We revelled in their joy and excitement. I used my tired old line…if God didn’t make the last weeks of pregnancy so uncomfortable, then no woman in her right mind would look forward to labour! We giggled at the wee outfits packed for the hospital – one blue and one pink . Only one baby, but still a surprise! We also caught up with all the sib news and the latest on the extended family.
After thirty years, it’s wonderful to still be crazy in love. And it’s wonderful to have the gift of family and friends to share it with. They expand that small circle of two into a life’s journey worth celebrating.
(The Rose by Bette Midler was our wedding song. I still get verklempt each time I hear the opening bars. And, yes, I insist on a dance with my honey each anniversary!)