Today is our five year wedding anniversary.
I keep saying, "Five years. Don't they go by in a blink?" to myself, in an Anthony Hopkins voice of course (and if you get the movie reference, we are friends! we are friends!). The thing is, this strikes me as a milestone anniversary, half a decade and whatnot, with so much life already lived together in such a small space of time. Yet it's also just a scratch in the surface of forever, which I think is a rather exciting thing.
Trevor and I thoroughly enjoy the challenge of traditional gift-giving on anniversaries. Five years is the wood anniversary, and aren't you excited, since if a "wood anniversary" isn't an opportunity for some philosophizing, I don't know what is.
Wood strikes me as strong and long-lasting and rugged and trustworthy and legendary. Wood seems timeless to me, a material of strength, a material that always has been and always will be. Wood ages well; and it's unafraid to wear its age, unafraid to carry-on with battle scars. Wood shows its process of maturation in beautiful circles, growth ingrained into its very being. It is willing to be redirected, to grow apart and back together, but always upward too. No matter how many pieces branch out, those branches are always rooted to the whole, dependent on those roots.
As I'm writing these things, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude that these thoughts run parallel to my marriage. Ours is a love story that seems the stuff of dreams sometimes, one written for the old romantics. Yet it's not a love story without trial and work, surprise and rerouting--and we're not ashamed to say that. We are proud of the life that we have cultivated together, because it's more than something we stumbled into. It's something we envisioned and worked toward and worked on. It still is.
Mostly my marriage is like this because I married a man who is like this. I don't think many would really compare me to wood or a to a tree; but those who know Trevor know well of his stoic being, his sturdy strength, his old soul, his trustworthiness. He is rooted by these traits, always striving to be greater. Anyone who knows him is better for it; and I'm honored that it's my privilege in life to know him better than anyone.
Five years. We're no longer a little sapling, but a young tree that's done some work and dug in and grown tall. And there's so much ahead of us, rings and branches to add, seasons to see come and go, and always, always reaching for the sun together.
See our whole wedding by Lauren Stocker.