an anniversary

these are the lightning days. the flashes of busyness and hurry that accumulate into storm clouds so full that sometimes they burst, and sometimes they lay heavy across the atmosphere, their weight deep and real.

i apologize for my time away. it is busy season at work and my last semester of graduate school and a million other little things that seem so big in a day that's only a meager twenty-four hours long.

but today is a special day, and so blogging commences again. robert and i are celebrating nine years since our first date, and four since our wedding. though we were both tired to the bone and pablo was restless, we stayed up until midnight to ring in the big day. life's made in those midnight moments, i'm convinced. in those times you stay up even though it's illogical and force your eyes to see happy things even when sometimes they just want to shut the world out for a few hours.

i wrote a post for our anniversary last year. and  because words are failing me this morning and this post remains my favorite one i've ever written, i wanted to share it again. so here you go. happy anniversary, my love.
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i knew him before facebook.

before the north american blackout. bush's second term. the last season of friends. love actually.

before janet had a wardrobe malfunction, martha went to prison, and ken won millions on jeopardy.

we sang along to stacy's mom and watched mystic river on the couch with my parents.

eight years have passed since that summer. that late august romance. that last first date. eight years of up-all-nights, throw my phone against the wall because i-miss-you-and-high-school-is-hard-without-you -and-why-do-i-hear-girls-in-the-background-are-there-girls-in-your-dorm? eight years of dates in cafeterias, in dining halls, in our kitchen. of bible reading and home brewing. of early morning greetings and front porch goodbyes.

we've climbed a waterfall together in jamaica, and fallen into bed at nine on a wednesday night. i've seen this man cry and i've seen a laugh rise from his gut so deep it cut off his breath. i've seen him on one knee. in a tux and blue collar.

and eight years ago today, i saw him on my doorstep. with a borrowed car and pressed shirt. and three years ago, i saw him at the alter.

and i declare, for all its hardships and trials, being in love is something more than spectacular. worth saving. keeping. remembering.

and on those nights when it seems like the darkness has won, worth calling him back for.

happy anniversary to the boy who always picked up.