I’m supposed to be pulling weeds today, but it’s pouring rain.  The new grass and the seed still germinating love it.  So does our water bill.  (And me, I’m not complaining!)

Today is July 14.  Yes, Bastille Day.  And Steve’s and my anniversary.

We met on a weekend getaway to the Maryland mountains hosted by a mutual friend whose parents opened their doors to us.  Of the crowd of people there, we each knew about two, and that did not include each other.  I was in one of my starving artist periods, singing all over everybody.  Steve liked what he saw.  We were both in deep nesting phases.  We started dating.  A short time later, Steve put it this way:  “My lease is about to run out. I have to move and I want you to move with me. If you don’t want to, OK.  It’s been nice.”  How’s that for romantic?

The adventure continues 31 years later.  The gifts I have received from Steve are immeasurable and innumerable; I pinch myself at least once a week.  Oh, nothing in this world is perfect, least of all human beings.  Our relationship has taught us both important lessons in the meaning of true adulthood.  If you ask me the secret to a long relationship, that’s what I’ll tell you: you must be grownups. The relationship itself takes on a life of its own, it’s a living creature you both make, and as adults, you both choose to give it paramount importance.  Your own childish interests never go away; the trick is in acknowledging that  inner baby and even humoring him when you can, but never at the expense of the relationship, the precious thing you have created together.

Is this marriage thing for everybody?  Apparently not.  But for us it’s worked beyond our wildest dreams.

Here’s to 31 more.