Ten years ago today, I got married. In a church, with all of the trimmings. My wedding cake had more ruffles than my dress.
“Happy anniversary!” my ex-husband said merrily this morning, on the phone, as we discussed kid details. We’re still co-parents, though no longer spouses.
I kind of want to celebrate, but feel hemmed in by what’s expected of me–or that nothing’s expected of me. I’m maybe supposed to feel bad. Mournful. I did have a verklempt moment, but overall, I feel happy. I love being a mama to my two children. I never would have moved to Santa Fe, gotten hired on at Mothering, or met my soul mate and partner, Laura (not the art director here– my Laura), if I hadn’t stood on those stone steps ten years ago today, while our assorted nearest and dearest blew soap bubbles at us. One thing had to follow the other to land me on this particular square of life path–this particular square of “I love my life” path.
(Peter might still have met his new lady love–she has a gallery here and his father does, too.)
But, I’d probably still be in my Lower East Side walk-up apartment, or at least on the East Coast, suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder and super-frizzy hair, thanks to the lack of sun and surfeit of humidity.
Cheers to celebrating anniversaries even when the initiating wedding has morphed into a whole different scenario. My instincts were right, even though my vision for my life back in 2001 turned out to be an illusion.
PS: The kids look sunburned here, but they’re just flushed from the heat. I actually had my SPF act together that day : )
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