25

When you're talking about years, 25 is a pretty big number. 25 years ago today, the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world, after a string of far-fetched circumstances, perhaps under the influence of some magical spell, or maybe just suffering a complete lapse of judgement, walked down the aisle of a church, kissed me, and became my wife. To this day I am dumbfounded as to why she would do a thing like that. But, wonder of wonders, she not only did it that day, but she has hung around for all these years. "Hung around" is probably not the right phrase. "Hung on" is more like it as I've dragged her from south to north and back, and from one end of the country to the other and back again. At the start I couldn't promise much. I did promise her that life would not be boring. That is one of the few promises I've been able to keep. Good grief! Can one keep a promise too well? I think yes! We could all use a little bit of boredom, thank you. At this moment I'm looking across the room at my precious one's sleeping face. Maybe tomorrow she will read this. So I think I'll communicate across the room via the big wide internet:

Thank you for the 25 years my love. You have given me so much more than I deserve. I so dearly hope we will have 25 more together. I'll try to make them a little more boring. Sweet dreams. Tomorrow we'll get started on the next quarter century.