23 Years

Yesterday was my parents' 23rd anniversary.  Even with the rocky parts of those years, my sisters and I are extremely grateful that there's always going to be at least one day out of the year reminding my parents why they fell in love in the first place.  It just takes them a while to realize it.  

Diane made a good point.  

"You have to look further back before they had us kids." 

There's a story in the family about how my dad used to drive from Sacramento to San Francisco between jobs just to see my mom to bring her lunch or dinner.  No matter what the shift was, he was there for her.  And my mom would be at the university, waiting for him.  They were still transitioning after their marriage and didn't have enough money for a place of their own.  They only stayed together on the weekends.  My mom lived in a studio with her roommates while my dad stayed with his friends.  On one Friday evening, after an exhaustive drive down to SF, my dad had brought leftover cabbage stew and rice so he and my mom could eat on the way back to Sacramento.  Hungrily they dug in and found that the cabbage had spoiled.  Instead of bickering out of frustration, they just sat in the parking lot, quietly crying over the only food they had left for the day while they comforted each other.

That's love.  When you only have a few possessions, it's easier to see why you want and need that significant other to be your rock.  It gets harder when other things are added on, your kids, work, financial issues, etc.  This is one of the moments where my sisters and I have to remember that at one point in their lives, my parents were passionate about one another.  They didn't have a petty argument.  Having each other's company was more than enough to live peacefully that night. 

I love my parents more than anything and at 23 years, I wish them many more anniversaries to celebrate, and definitely more days where they can think back and remember why they decided to become man and wife.