Standing in Front of the Cherry Tree

We stood in front of this same tree a little over ten years ago. This year spring came late and the blossoms didn't bloom in time. Not every cycle is just the same. Ten years ago we stood in front of this tree in front of my parent's house a few hours after we said we did on the pier out back in front of seventeen people. I wore a yellow dress my mama made me. Tom wore the suit his dad bought him. I remember wondering if I should have felt more at the moment-- the moment after the pastor spoke, and I was looking into Tom's eyes. I knew it was one of the biggest days of my life, but it didn't feel that big.

That night we drove across the bay. I packed a breast pump and a fake id. I thought I should probably drink wine on my honeymoon. Wine seemed like the thing grown ups drank. We hadn't yet learned we didn't like wine. Since then we've learned a lot about what we like and even more about being grown ups.

We learned that grown ups stay in with sick kids while their friends go see shows. We've learned that grown ups pay their bills, and they have to not lose important papers.  We've learned that sometimes grown ups get bored, and that there is more to life than just being excited.

There was a time before I learned some things I needed to know that I couldn't watch the indie romantic-comedies that have always been my favorite. I was jealous of all the people who were falling in love. I was sad that I was never supposed to do that again. I got mad at Jane Austen and Edith Wharton and all those writers who wrote about women whose only decision in life was deciding who to marry. I had already made that decision, or rather it had been made for me, and the rest of my life seemed to be a giant forgone conclusion.

Ten years later we're standing back in front of the tree three days after we celebrated our anniversary alone, at home, all four of our children away at Oma's house. We grilled grass fed steaks and roasted asparagus and got tipsy while talking about truth, lies, fiction, and gratitude. I was convinced that every thought needed to be revisited. It all felt real and raw and beautiful, and I couldn't believe how happy I was to be sitting on a screened-in porch in late April with the man I married ten years before.

It feels like it was yesterday. It feels like it has been an eternity.

SHARE THIS | TWEET THIS