A (prim) Rose by any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

Sixteen years ago today, that guy, who is now my husband, gave me a little wooden box with four little pots. Each pot had a little primrose in it.

He was dating my roommate, and brought her a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and his handsome smile and his invitation to dinner, but somehow in the midst of being a great boyfriend, he remembered me, the lonely roommate who, I think had just stopped dating the guy who would eventually be the best man at our wedding. Life was so simple then.

It was a very sweet of him. So sweet that after they left, I randomly, plucked three flowers from the plants and pressed them into the largest book I had at the time, "The Riverside Shakespeare," which is a ginormous book of works.

I had never pressed a flower in my life, and for some reason, I plucked those flowers and pressed them in the middle of Antony and Cleopatra which is sort of a strange love story. It's too bad I didn't choose Taming of the Shrew, or Romeo and Juliet because it might make the story better, but our story's not bad. I've never pressed a flower since that night.

I've wondered many times why I chose to save that memory. I thought he was a nice guy, and even at 25 it was obvious that he was a good guy-that he would be "grow up" to be a good man, and as it turns out, a great father as well. Did I know, even then, that we'd be here, nearly 13 years of marriage later?

What is it that makes us stick? What makes any marriage stay together? Perhaps it's facing adversity together and coming out on the other side-not that we're done facing challenges, Lucy is only 4! And I know we're still figuring out how to support each other, because what I need to "feel okay" is different than what my husband needs.  I've recognized that it might be unreasonable to expect my spouse to be my everything, which is why I cherish my relationships with my sister, my moms, my girlfriends, and my online community. My husband and I laugh a lot; we share a dark humor. We have a few secrets together, which may be surprising to some because I do tend to share quite a bit. Maybe this is something: I really like my husband. If we weren't married I would still want to know him, hang out with him, and probably still choose him as someone on my island (do you ever play that game?). He's very smart, and says nice things about me to other people, and we parent the same way without really trying. We have finally figured out that date night is a very smart thing to do on a very regular basis, and without much complaint, he eats everything I cook even if it's terrible. and he's handsome. I am a very lucky woman.

Happy Valentine's Day sweet man.

and thank you again to my roommate for finding such a great guy; I can never thank you enough.