CHRISTINE: C, sea, see.

When we got married, there were a total of 5 people in the room with us: our 4 witnesses and the chaplain. I wore a dark blue dress with light blue flowers and put a sprig of baby’s breath in my hair. Joe looked handsome as hell in his blues. There was no music or fanfare or the awful stress of a fancy wedding production. That would all come exactly one year later. But in the quiet of that little chapel, we walked down the aisle together and held our shaking hands in a death grip as the chaplain read 1 Corinthians to us. I cried as we said our vows to each other. They were just the regular old vows you hear at almost everyone’s weddings, but saying them at mine didn’t feel regular at all. By the time I got to “to love and to cherish” I could barely get my words out I was crying so much and the chaplain made me repeat myself. I love Joe so much. Time doesn’t diminish that. And as the years go by and we squeak (or sometimes barely squeak) through life’s challenges together, that doesn’t diminish us either. It only serves to make our bond stronger. I love going through my life with him. And as much as it hurts sometimes, I’m thankful to have him with me for all the trying times. He’s the best companion in it all. In better or worse, in richer or poorer, in sickness or health. I love him in all of it and everything else in between. Happy anniversary, Josep. You have made my life so much fuller, better, and brighter and I sure am one heck of a lucky girl.

My husband was sleeping with his hand resting on my hip earlier. I shifted to change positions and his hand fell away just a little. Without missing a beat, he put his hand right where it had been and tugged me against him, just like he does when we’re horsing around and I’m pretending to wriggle away. I thought for a second that I had woken him up, but he was still just as fast asleep. And I thought then how nice it was to know that even sleeping, he still knows: me is me. What a cool thing to get, like a little unconscious compliment. Marriage and committing to just one person might look boring to people who aren’t in it, but I wouldn’t trade the steadfastness and comfort of this day in and day out love for the transient thrills of taking selfies and setting thirst traps for strangers who don’t know any of the million little things about you that don’t carry much weight in the short term but are so necessary in the long. All that just to say that I love being married. I love telling someone the same stories over and over again so much that they can tell those same stories back to me. I love that there is someone in the world who knows just how I like my eggs—over easy on top of hot white rice—and that I used to love them scrambled with onions but I don’t anymore. I love that I can walk around the house singing dumb stuff like “tomato, to-mah-toe, potato, po-tah-toe” off key as hell and he doesn’t sit there and silently cringe. He laughs instead and climbs the stairs to give me a kiss and tell me that he loves my weird little quirks. That shit is nice, guys. That’s holy grail stuff. And if you have it, I hope you recognize it for what it is and hold on tight.

33 rounds around our sun today.