Today is my 29th wedding anniversary. L. and I married on 22 February 1982, which was her first day of work at a local university. When she filled out her paperwork, she asked whether she should put in her current name or married name.
There were only three people present that day – the two of us and our best man. We were married between appointments by the city clerk of Malden, then we went and got something to eat. Our ceremony was not for another year and a half – in July 1983, when we invited friends and family and had a party. But we were already married, and our church event was a blessing, not a wedding. We entered together and left together. There are pictures of that. We are much younger. Our hair is darker. More of our life is in front of us, and less is certain.
Just as an aside, the 29th anniversary (modern) is said to be commemorated by furniture. This seems to be somewhat of a space-filler, as the recommendation appears in only a few places.
I have never regretted marrying my wife, not ever, and being with her has made my life into a much better thing than it ever could have been. My Aunt Civita used to say senza rancore – no regrets. Certainly applies here. Our marriage has produced a wonderful daughter. No regrets there either; quite the opposite.
Here’s to 29 more. At least. Love you, L., and always will, and you too, A. Even if the sun weren’t shining – which it is this morning – I would feel that I was walking in sunlight today.