An Anniversary Memory

"An anniversary is a time to celebrate 

the joys of today, the memories of yesterday, and 

the hopes of tomorrow."  Anonymous

And so it approaches, my first anniversary without you.  I remember when we were picking which day to wed:  it was a leap year and you thought to marry me on the 29th.  Not so many anniversaries that way.  And you did not think there would be many, my love, despite my whisper to your sleeping ear that I would not leave you.  

This has been a hard month with Valentine's Day and our anniversary nestled cheek to cheek, and the other Christmas gifts I found that you had bought and hidden in your closet undid me.  It was as if you found a way to send me a surprise for those celebrations without being here.  Again, more gifts for the bike:  booties, sun glasses, socks. I miss you, my love, my friend, my safe place.  This world is, indeed, a stranger without you.

The snow fell relentlessly not long ago, and cold poured out across our home.  The weatherman said it was the coldest weather in over twenty years.  The snow made me think of one anniversary when the children were still so small and I was not yet working outside the home.  Another gift you gave to me, never griping at the luxuries and extras we lacked by my choice to raise our children myself.  One two liter pop to share per week:  a luxury.  But that is another story perhaps for another day.  

Despite normally enjoying staying home with the children, I so looked forward to our going out for our anniversary and having some couple time.  With money so tight, this adult treat happened only rarely, its very rareness making it more special than it might otherwise have been.  But the snow fell, the endless snow, cold and unyielding, trapping us inside.  I remember crying in the hallway when I finally realized that it would not quit and that we could not go have our special time, and I remember the warmth of your arms as you held me and let me cry.  I remember the way your breath whispered across the side of my neck, so soft and caressing.  And I remember your answer to my traditional anniversary question:  "Would you, knowing all of me, all my faults, my selfishness, my bad things, would you marry me again?" Yes, my love, yes.