Sixteen Years

No candles, as this is not a birthday.

Just memories...

Warm August rain outside an apartment

Walks to the park, sitting on the swings. Walking down West Johnson in the dark, holding hands and picking our children's names.

Stolen cinnamon rolls from work and a big orange tabby.

An old Chevy Celebrity...and all the problems that come with an old car. The lemon of lemons, the Subaru.

Chinese food and rented movies.

Leap of Faith. Taking a leap of faith and telling you that I was in love with you. The smell of your room on West Johnson.

Snuggling in a bed too small for the two of us, not minding. Teaching me to play Nintendo games, and teaching me how to use a computer.

Flunking a test for a night of passion. And not regretting it.

Perkin's and Country Kitchen, late night studying and working. Sitting all night in a booth with a GameBoy, waiting to drive home. Sitting up all night playing video games, then going out for breakfast while it was still dark out.

Surgery, diabetes, and more surgery.
Almost flunking a class because we got lost in each other...and giving the worst speech of my life as a result.

Twinkling lights, a first Christmas tree, and a proposal. Knowing in my soul you were the right one.

New kitties, old kitties, and a different apartment that developed Lake Wasson in the Spring. Long Saturdays spent cleaning together and doing laundry.

Little Red Trucks from New Mexico. Camping, golfing, and running cables into the bedroom so I could still watch tv when the guys were over.

Opening wedding gifts together in that old apartment, a box labeled from the cats. Fish tanks and cats that go "Thwack and Thunk" in the night.

Long car trips to Madison and Green Bay, getting lost on the way to the airport. Over the river and back again to Grandma's house in Pepin. Starting to break the oyster stew tradition.

Beautiful flowers for a golden birthday, eaten by a crazy cat. Beautiful flowers on a wedding day, and years later on an anniversary.

Our first dog together--thinking what had we done? Our first house, moving day, waking up together in our bed on that first morning in our new house, your birthday. Having one bed, not two that needed to be pushed together.

Waking up with a fishing pole in bed. Not really minding. Irons on the floor, sweet and sour on the floor. Carved pumpkins on a balcony.

Your, mine, ours. Our memories, our lives. When I look back, this is how they come at me, not linear, not chronological. We are now approaching spending more of our lives together than apart...and I'm overjoyed.