The Tuesday Night Dinner Project
Tomorrow, Mick and I will celebrate our twenty-first wedding anniversary. My son Shawn quipped about our marriage finally being legal last night when we talked over dinner at Merlin’s Rest in Minneapolis. We raised a beer to the idea (Smithwick’s for me, Murphy’s for Shawn, and Carlsburg for Mick). And, in my head, I thought how the hell did that many years go by already? I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about how old I am or how long I’ve been married or what number high school reunion is looming mostly because it’s absolutely true that I feel the same inside as I did at 21 or 31 or…..well, I’ll stop there. And by “inside”, I mean the vulnerable, sentimental part of me that wants to be loved and wants to be part of whatever is going on around me and misses my family when they’re somewhere I’m not.
The back injury that is being eased through physical therapy is a different sort of “inside”, so just don’t go there.
Anyway. Mick and I have been married a long time. Not as long as my parents, who clocked sixty-five years together. I’m not sure we’ll make that landmark anniversary only because we have another forty-four years to go without one of us dropping dead. If we’re both still here then, damn, bring on the champagne.
We didn’t spend long on the anniversary conversation last night; there was too much else to talk about and Camille was not inclined to sit still. We had fun, ate well (Merlin’s Rest hamburgers are grass-fed beef and really good….just sayin’), headed over to Shawn and Beka’s for an after-dinner drink and conversation while Camille wound down for the night.
And wouldn’t you know that Shawn remembered I’d asked that he cook for my birthday, which is not until August, but he’s already thinking about it so he can practice some recipes before the event. That kind of planning ahead for a dinner months from now really surprised me. I’m so delighted that he’s taken to experimenting with food and feeding people. I can’t think of anything that I’m going to like better than to have one of my kids cook for me as I age as I celebrate another year. (Aging – yeesh.)
All this talk got me thinking about all kinds of anniversaries. I realized that the four-year anniversary of this blog slipped by me in February when I wasn’t looking. It’s just been five years since Every Day Poets published the first poem I submitted to them. And it will be seventeen years since Mick and I moved into our Roseville house the day after our wedding anniversary. It snowed the day we moved in. This year won’t be much different that way.
What is different this year is that our kids don’t live with us anymore. This is our first anniversary together in a house that is just ours, on a schedule that is just ours most of the time. Anniversaries, after all, don’t just mark the start of something special. They also mark the evolutions of us all.
Evolution. Yes, I believe in that.
|The “Whew! We did it!” toast on our wedding day. My sister Trish looked on; she was my maid of honor.|
|My son Shawn also deserved a special toast that day. He still deserves a toast or two.|