Sometimes I forget. I forget moments. I forget days. I even forget whole years, it seems. It is so hard to believe that Phil and I have been married for 17 years, because, as I often joke, I really only remember the last two or three years of our marriage. So, as long as those are good, then the years before that fade into fuzzy memories and are irrelevant.
What I do remember, is this. I remember that Phil fell in love with me at a time that no one should have taken a second look. Phil stayed in love with me through years when most men would have run. And best of all, Phil is still in love with me (at least I think so…).
On top of that, I am still in love with Phil. More, each day.
We are going to celebrate our 17th anniversary at the restaurant where Phil proposed to me. I think once a year we ought to stop and remember each year. Why? Because like a stairway to heaven, each step is just as important as the next. Six, seven, 11, 13 – who knows what great things happened in those middle of the staircase years? It doesn’t matter. Without seven, without 13, you can’t have 17.
I thank God for 17.
Happy Anniversary, Phil.