|Our wedding carriage with the fringe on the top.|
It sounds so long but lived so fast.
Our kids were kids. Jeremy had just turned eleven, Nathan was only seven. The four of us shared a Western wedding at Milhaus Ranch just outside of Nevada City, California, a June day that began overcast and ended with sunshine streaming through a tiny break in dark gray clouds; a single ray of sunlight that landed on nobody but the two of us standing before the covered wagon altar. At the time everybody said it was a sign of God's blessing.
Now I'm thinking maybe it was.
In our memories and photo albums 25 years is all a happy blur. We remember (or reinvent) the best of times vividly. The rough patches just seem like faint scrapes on a perfectly aging portrait.
Yesterday somebody asked the secret to our marriage. It's no secret, I said. We were good friends before we fell in love and we make each other laugh.
|Milhaus Ranch, June 4, 1988|
A good marriage is like a carousel ride. You go up and down, around and around, accompanied by weird, happy music.
You laugh a lot.
And it seems like it will last forever.