I figure anniversaries should be celebrated, and the man I married 12 years ago today agrees. So after third service we drove to NE Portland to eat at a little cafe named Violet’s using a gift certificate given to us by a young friend as a Christmas gift. We worked hard to use up every dollar of that gift. While we waited for our food we opened cards to each other—mine was store bought this year—and talked about all we’ve done in the past 12 years. Of course we couldn’t think of everything, but the list included travels, events (weddings, funerals, reunions, Quaker meetings), children living with us (and how that impacted our early years), cars and other purchases, and more. We didn’t talk about how many pounds we’ve both gained and lost and regained in 12 years.
Mauri’s card to me includes the words “more to come,” and we tried to think of what our future holds. Foresight is much harder than hindsight, but we managed to think of a few things for that list as well. Okay, maybe it was only one thing: more grandchildren, probably. The rest of our future is just out there, and we hope with God’s help we will choose good ways to use the next year, the next decade, the next 12…whatever we have left. As I told an older friend who inquired this morning about the tattoo on my third finger left hand—we knew when we got married that life is unpredictable. We only know we need to make the most of every day.
So after lunch we walked (well, Mauri walked; I still hobble, I’m afraid) across the street to a bike shop to see about buying me a new pair of clipless bike shoes. My surgeon and my massage therapist have both given me the nod to get back on the bike. We might even get a couple of rides in before it starts to rain.