Thirty years ago, on January 9^th of this year, I thought I had plenty of time to get the car washed.

It was an important day, and I wanted a clean car, but we all know time stops at the car wash, and I was nearly late for my wedding.

Michael, who should have gotten the car washed the day before, was a few drinks in by the time I arrived, and over the years, a great story emerged about the best man spraying deodorant on his balls.

We were so young. I’m in a dress that looks like a baroque prom threw up all over me, and Michael is in a similar prom-ish tux with George Washington hair, not literally, but it was long back then and very presidential. 

I was pregnant. We were both nervous and rushed. I would change nearly everything about my wedding if I could go back and sprinkle my past with maturity, patience, and self-love.

Everything except the guy. I would marry him all over again. 

That can sound cheesy on a card with a rainbow couple, but I mean it. Not because he’s perfect or our relationship, marriage, kids, and family are perfect. They’re not. We’re not. 

I would pick him because, for whatever reason, I have loved him all my life. I have not always liked him. I’ve thrown things and made plans to leave on a few occasions, but I love the man deep into wherever my soul calls home. 

I care for him and want what is best for him. I love him second only to how much I’ve learned to love myself. He is the best person to share a life. We are two sides of a completely dented and dinged coin. 

Thirty years of marriage to Michael is a lot like those road trips we used to take. Some great songs, a few pitstops, one of us asleep, the other distracted. Tired eyes, questions, and answers. Laughter, so much laughter. 

Thirty years. Ten thousand, nine hundred and fifty days of my life have been spent in the very best company.

I don’t like many people, but I adore the person I married. He is that special combination of smart and smart ass. He gets me and has finally figured out how to make my tea. He has broken my heart and put me back together. 

Our wedding was odd, our families are complicated, but it has been a blast learning how to love one another. After thirty years, I ask for only one thing– more of the same, please.

My thoughts from the laundry room. How’d it Go?

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