Twenty years.
Twenty years ago I walked down the aisle at Grace and Saint Peter’s Church in Baltimore while the choir sang a piece composed by the groom who awaited me at the front. The joy of that moment had been a long time in coming.
My daughter from my first marriage was my bridesmaid. My future in-laws had prepared a beautiful reception in the parish house. Like most weddings the day went by in a blur. As evening fell we sat by firelight at the Inn at Mitchell House, exhilarated by it all.
We had bought our tickets for a journey whose adventures we could not possibly anticipate.
I don’t want to condense twenty years into a sentimental essay. I simply want to say two things:
I am so far from being a perfect person. I wince at my shortcomings and would probably be overwhelmed by them were it not for the fact that I married someone who makes me want to be better and do better all the time.
And I am so incredibly blessed to have found a love that was returned fully, without reservation.
There’s nothing more important for me to say today than that the last twenty years have been filled with every shade of love: kindness, patience, compassion, creativity, laughter, endurance, generosity, flexibility, and strength. Oh, and music. If it weren’t for music we never would have met at all.
Tomorrow may be the day for writing about schools or concerts or politics.
Today is for us.
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