Today, the better half and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary. I still remember looking at my cousin’s college photograph and asking her “who’s that?”. That was in ’99 or 2000. We met formally in 2003. The rest is history.
We celebrated our 6th year together by taking the twins out to an Indian restaurant for lunch. We spoke about the six years of togetherness and how we have come a long way both as an individual and as a couple.
Yesterday, our friends who live in the same apartment complex brought a cake and shared our joy. Usually, we are the ones who take cakes to our friends’ houses and this was a very pleasant role reversal.
I look forward to at least 44 more wedding anniversaries with my missus. Hopefully, death won’t play spoilsport and do us apart. When we talk about death, my missus always says “I want to leave first”. And I always make fun of her by blowing my own trumpet. “Of course. I’m the one in better shape”. We always make a joke out of it, but I’m pretty sure she will pass on before I do. I can clearly see myself, standing beside her bed, holding her old wrinkled hands and smiling.
“I’ll join you soon honey. Keep a window seat for me, will ya?”