Fifteen

Today, in addition to Thanksgiving, we celebrated fifteen years of marriage. Fifteen.

Fifteen years doesn't look anything like I thought it would. Of course, as a young person, there is no way to know or understand what marriage is really like, much less fifteen years of it. Then add kids? No way can anyone fully comprehend what that means at 20. Or 25 for that matter.

Fifteen years is shifting roles and renegotiating. It's knowing that Friday night isn't for partying, it's for sleeping after a long work week. It's doing the bills and getting the coffee ready for him because he works so hard and takes such good care of us.

Fifteen is seeing one child almost done with college. (Holy cow!) An almost teenager in middle school. Fifteen means I'm almost done with the elementary school with the third.

Fifteen has seen the passing of a parent, and the aging of others. Fifteen has been a nurse after surgery, the flu, child-birth, and the emergency room.

Fifteen is predictable fights on holidays and no one's feelings really being hurt. Fifteen means you've been there and had that fight enough times to know that neither one of you really mean it. It's the stress of the day. 

Fifteen has grown a friendship. Respect. Security. Comfort. Tenderness. Intimacy.

And yes, absolutely love. Unbelievably deep, unbelievably strong love. Stronger than you ever thought possible or could imagine all those years ago.