We celebrated our second wedding anniversary on Friday night (though today is the big day), really threw it down with a multiple-course dinner at this
swank Austin spot right in our neighborhood: apps, entrees, desserts, drinks. Deliciousness. We’d left Kaspar, already sleeping, back at home and in the care of close friends, and walked our way leisurely through the warm, balmy night. Holding hands, we passed food trailers strung with Christmas lights, street musicians, packs of college girls, people eating ice cream and staring at the sidewalk flowing by. South Austin’s sultry neon signs glowed beneath a violet sky (which promised rain all weekend, but never did put out); we took our seats on Perla’s patio and marked our ascension to two years: complete.
Friends and family who attended our wedding have remarked, “Time flies! Two years already?” We feel like we’ve lived five. We’ve loved it and lived this married life well; time’s kaleidoscopic little trick has not
been a matter of misery… far from it. It’s just that we’ve fit so damn much in already— we’ve been going full-throttle since our very beginning, and we couldn’t have known on our wedding day just how wild this ride would be (though we both probably could have guessed at that, to some degree).
It’s mostly been a no-holds-barred blast, but there have been moments (sometimes uncomfortably sustained) when we’ve just had to lean into the winds and push on. Our anniversary last year, for example, was kind of a bust: we were five flights from New York, mid-move, having landed in Dallas for a couple of days with Aaron’s mom after swinging through Wisconsin to attend my brother’s wedding. OD-ing on air travel and extended-family-time, we debated fine dining but ended up heading to a taco stand, wanting to honor our milestone in some way and figuring tacos were at least a properly Texan way to do it. We ended up cutting our date short, however; Aaron’s mom had called to say that Kaspar was crying and scratching at his ears. She couldn’t comfort him. I could, but I couldn’t really
help. This was going on then, this thing we couldn’t name or solve. Not yet.
We just did our best and loved our baby up strong and smiling, and ate our dinners, or didn’t… and kept going. We went to bed that night with Kaspar breathing rhythmically between us, reached for a kiss over his small, warm body and held each other’s hands beneath his feet. We woke the next morning and drove yet further into the unknown (we've been cruising in that direction just about from the start), to Austin, to continue creating our story and to start something new (first order of business: new floors. Our place was gross), and now here we are at year two. Complete.
Year two brought new ventures, new friendships, new challenges, new victories, new days and our version of normalcy, some solid routines… and folded up nicely with champagne and chocolate mousse carried to our table on a tray. I asked Aaron, leaning forward, “Are you happy in this life?” and he said yes, yes he is, very much so. It’s been intense for us both at times, to say the least, but we’re also wired that way—striving, moving forward, growing. We’re not the kind of people who shy away from change. Sometimes we initiate it, and sometimes it initiates us into entirely new eras, and new versions of ourselves to match the times: naked boldness is a prerequisite for true participation in this life, you know, and sometimes life simply won’t settle for less.
He asked me, too, whether I’m happy in our life together, and in mine, as in my own (“so busy, and with so little sleep”). I am, I said. I really am. And that is true. So we walked, shoulders touching, leaning in, back to our home, to our friends and our still-sleeping baby, and I stood awestruck at the fullness of it all… already. That just two years ago we were married, that for all my hopes and guessing, I could never have imagined my life would be as rich as it is now.
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