My husband and I just celebrated our 30^th wedding anniversary. Thirty years. There’s something about those decade numbers that just make them sound so very large. Three entire decades. How can this be?

Young me had no idea what this would look like. In truth, young me was pretty surprised about the whole getting married situation. Let alone the idea of having children. Let alone a time beyond that. A time when I would have been married for thirty years and would have had children and raised children and have adult children managing their own lives. Phew…did not see that coming.

Let’s be honest, there were a whole lot of things that I didn’t see coming. For instance, I never anticipated that after thirty years it could still be exciting when we’re alone at the house. Those evenings when he looks at me…hey, did you wanna?

I look back at him…oh yeah.

And just like that we’re sitting in the Dairy Queen parking lot eating Peanut Buster Parfaits on a Tuesday night. Just because we wanted to. And because we can’t go inside the Dairy Queen since we’ve already put on comfy clothes for the night. Did not see that coming.

Also, the fact that one of us would announce each evening, “time for comfy clothes!” as though it were a national holiday and the pure joy which that announcement would bring. Did not see that coming.

I never imagined the Disney trips and the ER trips and the Scout trips and the trips to the grocery store I would send him on the day before Thanksgiving every year because every year, for thirty years, something has been forgotten.

I never imagined the feelings that would ebb and flow, the emotions that would grow less excitable but so much deeper, the way we would still be laughing about silly things that crack us up even after thirty years.  

I never imagined the job opportunities and the job losses. I never imagined the fear and awesome wonder of discussing our children and the choices they are making. I never imagined burying three of our parents.

I never imagined the dependence I would feel for this person after three decades. I never imagined how building a family together – a life together – would make us both stronger than we were on our own. But also more fragile.

Sure, I occasionally like to imagine that I am the “strong, independent woman” of cultural fame, but it’s not really true. The truth is that I have grown, and grown my life, inextricably tangled together with this other person. The truth is that he makes me better, and we are strong together. The truth is I am not quite me without him.

Did not see that coming.