No less an authority than Mary Higgins Clark* assures me that in seven years’ time, every cell in the human body will have replaced itself at least once. By this logic, I am a completely different person than I was on my wedding day.**
Whether it has anything to do with biology or not, it is unequivocally true. I loved the Jellyman when we got married, but I was 5 days shy of my 24th birthday. I was selfish and immature, in the way that young middle-class Americans can afford to be — or think they can afford to be, anyway.
Now, I’m just a few days away from 31. I have spent 7 years with this man, building a life, starting a family. We have learned together what it means to sacrifice and to support — things we promised each other we would do, without really understanding what it might cost us. Thinking back to what I thought love meant when I was 24, I laugh at myself a little. That is, until I realize: if in 7 years the intensity of my feelings for him has increased so exponentially, how will I feel when 50 years have gone by? Then I stop laughing and I have to catch my breath.
I guess if nothing else, I’ve learned how very much I still have to learn.
Still, celebrating this small milestone feels good. So, to the cute boy on the bus who became the guy I never want to live without, happy anniversary! Every cell in my body still wants to be with you, so we must be doing something right. I love you.
*She is also an expert in seemingly perfect yet secretly homicidal men, the beautiful and successful young women who fall in love with them and realize the truth too late, and the equally perfect and actually stable young men who figure it out just in time to help the heroines escape the psychopaths. So why would I not accept her authority in this matter?
**Our anniversary was actually yesterday, but [excuse excuse excuse excuse], so I couldn’t post until today.