Nine years ago, today, I spent an afternoon in front of my family – and a ridiculous amount of set-up time beforehand – letting everyone knew what I had already learned. I was going to spend the rest of my life with the woman whose slippered feet were next to mine. A party ensued, friends and family demonstrating the vast gulf between myself and them, and at some point, a profiterole cake was cut with an axe. I don’t remember much, I really don’t, but it’s always been strange because to me, it was a party and a demonstration for others, not for me. As good a time for marking dates as any, it was making as official as could be tolerated that the woman I loved, the woman with whom I lived, the woman whose life was intertwined with my own, was exactly that.
????: The sense upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love.
It has been a stressful few weeks for her, and there have been many things burdening her. I can only hope to be a good enough person to be able to help her stand up again when things get her down, and to walk alongside her, for as much of forever as we mortal frames can have.
Happy Anniversary, Foxadon