This month marks Adrien’s and my 32nd anniversary. We met in college when he asked if I would be his piano accompanist for a student trumpet recital… I would not. “Juniors do not play for freshman” — I hear about that with reliable frequency every time my ego gets in front of common sense.
I am writing this post on the eve of December 7 — the date printed on our wedding invites — even though we were actually married on December 17th. Back in the dark ages of 1977, wedding invitations were sent to one printer who presumably could not possibly be reached by telephone to make corrections (perhaps the phone wasn’t yet invented) — the date was only one of many on that printing job (just how many “e’s” are there in ceremony?) And printing screw ups were just one in a series of now-comical faux pas marking our wedding day; none of which seem to have affected the actual marriage.
Thirty-two seems an incredible number to me. One that is marked with many ups and downs. The highs have been exhilarating — we’ve celebrated new jobs, new careers, new homes, incredible travel, and a lifetime of landmarks around our son, Matt. But the test of time has been in the lowpoints — job losses, family deaths, serious illness. It is the fabric of our life together, and Adrien has been the rock, the friend, who has been there to celebrate and to worry through any and all of it. How lucky I am that my best friend is my partner through it all.
No one can anticipate what the future holds, but I feel confident that no matter what life throws at us, we’ll be just fine as long as we are there for each other. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig, “I’m the luckiest (wo)man on the face of the earth.” Happy Anniversary my friend!