The other day you asked me, as we drifted off to sleep, what today means to me — our one year anniversary. I said, I don’t think of it as our first. I think of it as our third, because to me, it means three incredible years with my best friend.
That’s what today means to me. Three years of friendship with you. Sure, we got married last year, but the moment that stands out in my memory isn’t our “I do’s”, but the day we met downtown at the Farmer’s Market, and you had bought tomato plants and set them in the back of your car, but I didn’t know they were there, and we spent the entire day together and they barely survived.
(But they did, and they were delicious.)
I remember that day, and all the days that followed, and all those moments we laughed our asses off into the night, or fought to keep things from falling apart, or just held each other in silence because words were superfluous. All those moments come rushing back to me today, and all I can think is how lucky I am. That, and how much I love you.
So here’s to three years of friendship, and one year of marriage. Here’s to us. And here’s to sweet, juicy tomatoes that can survive overnight in the trunk of a car. Happy anniversary!