But I am not going to lie. I kind of keep waiting for the bottom to fall out. A similar (but definitely not at all similar) situation about six years ago turned my world on it's ear and it all started/ended with moving into a new house. While the only familiar player in this sequel is me, I cannot help but notice the occasional ringing in my left ear of déjà vu. Yet Mike is not him and I am not who I was six years ago and this marriage is nothing like that relationship was.
Our second anniversary is quickly approaching and I can look back and say that year two was far more difficult than year one. Year one was a breeze in comparison. While we look around us and see numerous friends' marriages falling apart, we hold each other a little tighter, try to listen a little bit better and speak a little more clearly. I don't want to be a statistic. Or maybe I do; just one of the ones who made it through successfully.
I know without a doubt that this man loves me more than anyone else ever has, aside from my family. I can feel it in every touch and taste it in each kiss. I know that as long as I am willing to keep on keeping on, so will he. He has watched both of his parents marry, divorce, remarry and divorce again. He knew he didn't want that. I see my parents, with their 30th wedding anniversary a week away and know that they are something to aspire to.
Marriages like that are more than just a contract on paper.
Marriages like that are a foundation and walls and fabrics and pictures and everything that makes a house a home. No amount of planting or painting or organizing is going to make this home, because it already is.
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