My husband and I had our 25th anniversary the other day. We are planning a getaway to really celebrate, but the day itself was a bright bubble reflecting our life together. Dan went to work at the office and I worked at home. Before we parted in the morning, we hugged and kissed and agreed to think up options for our evening together. Dan called mid-afternoon, a smile in his voice. “I have a plan!” He outlined a walk around downtown, with shopping and a progressive dinner. I ditched my options in the face of his enthusiasm and waited for him to come home- early!- so we could go on our date.

A couple places we intended to visit were unexpectedly closed. One just didn’t seem appealing when we looked in. But we walked and held hands and ate a wonderful meal and poked around in a couple shops.

We started out in a giddy mood, nostalgic and laughing. We promised we wouldn’t talk about the kids. Over dinner, the conversation turned serious; we did talk about the kids, and our marriage, and relationships and how we were doing in our walks with God.

Halfway through dessert, one us suddenly felt unwell. We made our slow way back to the car, with the sick one periodically pleading to “walk slower.” I won’t say who it was, but I did sit in the passenger seat with my eyes closed and a plastic bag clutched in my hand the whole ride home.

The well one shooed the kids away from the sick one, tucked her into bed, and checked to make sure there was a plastic wastebasket next to her. In a couple hours, the sick one felt better, and Dan lay in bed reading funny stories to me. We fell asleep as we almost always do, hands clasped palm to palm.

The day was our life, encapsulated. Plans, and acquiescence to plans. Anticipation and happiness in being together. Open doors, shut doors. Doors we thought we wanted to go through that we later changed our minds about. Silly and serious. Better and worse, sickness and health. And at the last, the comfort of companionship.

Happy Anniversary, my Love.