Well, it's our anniversary week.   On Sunday, we will have 23 years of wedded bliss under our belts.  We dated a year before we were married, so we've been together for 24. 
A lot of changes happen in 24 years. 

At first, there's that nervous, awkward stage.  You weigh every word carefully before you speak......wanting to make the very best impression.  You worry over blowing your chances.  And then, one day, he lets out a big belch, while scratching himself and you get him to check if there's something hanging out of your nose at the restaurant and ask him to tell you the truth on whether your upper lip needs waxing or not.   

At first, you wear your beautiful, yet tasteful, lingerie and little matching pajama sets every night.  And then, one day, he rolls over to find you in your favorite, big ol' t-shirt from the College World Series of '98 with the fruit punch stain from '99 and a broken in pair of stretch pants with the spots of Revlon opaque red fingernail polish that you spilled back when "W" was in office. 

At first, you get roses, surprise weekend trips, diamond earrings, and candy for special occasions.  And then, one day, you start saying things like, "You know your new set of tires? Well, that, plus the hot water heater we had to buy last week, will be our Valentine gifts to each other.  Deal?"

At first, he's careful to lower the seat after he exits the restroom and then, one day, you stumble into the dark bathroom, sit down, and start flailing about like a trout on the riverbank.....clamoring for a towel bar or waste basket......anything to keep your buttocks from hitting the toilet water.

At first, he says things like, "You're so beautiful, baby"......and you say, "You're looking so handsome tonight", and then, one day, he says, "So, what's going on with your hair?.....Is it supposed to be that color?", and you say, "You're not going anywhere with me if you're wearing that...Now, come over here and let me get that hair out of your ear."

At first, you want to prepare fresh, nightly meals for him when he gets home from work.....carefully planning out a weekly menu of all his favorites.....and then, one day, you tell him, "Well, there's that half a salad in the frig from lunch at the restaurant and if we open this can of ravioli, heat up that frozen pizza, and close our eyes, it will be just like the Tour of Italy at the Olive Garden." 

At first, Christmas looked like an explosion of all your favorite things.  You'd shopped for each other for weeks.  Everything you both ever wanted waited for you under the tree with your name on it.  And then, one day, on Christmas morning, you look at each other over the mound of Legos, train tables, and the Barbie Dreamhouse with all of its sold separately furniture..... proudly holding your lone gifts of "Mom" and "Dad" coffee mugs bought from the school's Christmas store.

At first, you're like...."I'm so glad we started saving for college last year when they were born.....that way, we can retire on time without having that to consider."  And then, one day, you're like...."Well, here it is, son.......this should get you through the first semester without any problems.  We'll be working until Jesus returns, honey."

At first, he's the valedictorian of the new baby classes at the hospital...the teacher's pet....knows all the answers.....and then, one day, he sleeps right through the shrill, sustained screams of a colicky newborn, which crack all the bathroom mirrors and the leaded glass in the front door.

At first, he's says, "I've made weekend reservations at that nice restaurant we've been wanting to try", and then, one day....when you have one in college and a sorority, he's like, "well, if we take this coupon, go before 4:30, split an entrée, eat a lot of the free rolls, and both order water, I guess we can go out this weekend". 

At first, you're like, "Sure, you can keep your big, brown, corduroy, bachelor recliner that rivals the size of the smaller Hawaiian islands and, yes, also the 48"x64" numbered print of the mallards can hang there" and then, one day, while he's at work, there is an unfortunate residential burglary in which only a recliner and wildlife wall art are taken.  How peculiar.   

At first, you're all slim and trim and so conscious of your figure and then, one day, he's like, "Kids, pass those plates down here if you're done.....we're not going to waste that",  and you say, "Here are the size 5 jeans that I wore on our honeymoon if you need some rags to check the oil". 

At first, he gets right to work on his honey-dos and then, one day, he says, "I'll do it in a minute", which means....."I'm doing something right now and after I get done with that, there will be a succession of other things that I will be doing that could take up to 6-9 months.  After that, I will get right on it."

At first, he's like, "Oh, baby...this is the best chicken pot pie ever" and then, one day, he says, "This is pretty good.....but my Mama always puts boiled eggs in hers and I don't know what else she does to it, but I love it....not that yours isn't good. Don't get me wrong."

At first, you lie awake in bed, listening to him snore like a grizzly bear in January.....not wanting to wake him because of his big meeting the next morning.  And then, one day, you kick him harder than a spooked thoroughbred and insist he go to the couch. 

At first, it's all new and unfamiliar and takes some getting used to.......like breaking in a pair of shoes.  There are years of adjustments and compromises and learning the ropes.  And then, one day, without any alarm bells or fanfare or news bulletins, it's comfortable and familiar and relaxed and broken in to where it suits you both to a T.  That's where we are.  We are "home" to each other.     
I wouldn't want to spend my "one days" with anyone but you, Dave.   

Happy Anniversary!