Seventeen years ago I married my high school sweetheart and best friend. I was 19 and he was 20. Now here we are 36 and 37 with five kids and a farm. Yesterday, March 9, was our wedding anniversary. Seventeen years is enough to blur the details of the day a bit, but not so much to erase the memory of just how elated we were to be promising the rest of our lives to each other, and to be stepping out into a life of our own.
People ask me sometimes if I have any regrets about getting married so young. I answer, “Nope, not a one!” I’d do it all over again without a second thought. God has graciously grown us as individuals as well as grown our marriage over these years, and I can certainly say our marriage is better now than ever. I know that is something to be so grateful for.
Friday afternoon found Anthony and I driving off in our Durango, just the two of us, down interstate 81 to Galax, Va. We had reserved a cozy, romantic, little cottage near New River State Park for just one night. One night to reconnect as lovers and not as parents of a busy, growing family. One night to relax without a care about what we should be doing around the house.
And you know what? We found ourselves slipping right back into the “before kids” days of just the two of us, sharing our thoughts (without interruption!), being comfortable with just silence . . . beautiful silence, and feeling the spark of attraction that hasn’t disappeared these seventeen years. It was wonderful, just wonderful!