Eighteen years ago, he had a countdown timer.
When he came to see me at work, he’d let me know just how much time was left. The number of days. Hours. Minutes. Even seconds.
Even the flowers he had delivered to me at work one day, as beautiful and thoughtful as they were, didn’t hold a candle to the love shown through that countdown. With each update, I knew he was excited. I knew he anticipated. I knew this was mutual. He was as excited about the day, the hour, and the moment as I was.
The actually event was not elaborate. In fact, it lasted a mere nineteen minutes. But, it was worth the countdown. It was worth the anticipation. Because it was the gateway opening to the eighteen years that have followed.
We’re still counting. But now we’re counting up. We’re walking through every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year, and even decade together. There are ups and downs, as life must have. But, we love it all. We are thankful for it all. Because we mutually walk through it together.
We celebrate throughout the year. We honor throughout the year. But, once a year, we step it up just a bit. We mark the passing of another tick of the calendar. Another major count up. We remember the anticipation of the days we were counting down, and we stand thankful for all of the days since.
Happy 18th anniversary, my love!
Thank you for counting down to 2:00, December 19, 1998 (and 2:19!). Thank you for sticking with me while we have counted up to eighteen. And thank you for not batting an eye when you say you’re ready to count up to 36…and beyond!