TWO YEARS

Yesterday I went for a long morning walk, which is something Mark and I used to do.  It was worlds ago, the summer before we started college.  He would come for me at eight, sometimes earlier.  I was always ready, no matter how late I’d been up the night before (sometimes with him), no matter how quickly I’d had to scarf my breakfast.  It was never early enough. 

I remember one morning in a plaid dress when we drove to a park and sat on the swings, dragging our feet through the sand, watching the sun crest the buildings around us, waiting for thick humidity to creep in and fill the day with summer, that unmistakable feeling.  I remember another morning, in a red sweater and a braid (which used to be quite long) when we walked for hours around the neighborhoods near my house.  I remember the braid because once we finally stopped to sit I was fiddling with it endlessly, until he asked to touch it.  Small things were important, then.  They still are, because I still remember.

I remember less about two years ago, when I woke up late after a night of fitful sleep.  He picked me up that morning, too, wearing his suit.  We drove to our wedding together, just the two of us.

That was two years ago today.  After two years, we are starting something new.  Something else new.  We’re living in the city, finding a house, stepping into adulthood.  We’ve finally finished school: no one is surprised anymore to hear me mention my husband.  We are in the accepted territory of grown-ups.  We got here together, on a long, meandering walk.  This is the next big thing.

We woke up this morning in darkness, trying to convince each other that fifteen more minutes of sleep couldn’t hurt.  It’s always too early, no matter when the alarm goes off.  Mark was halfway dressed for work before I was properly awake, and I dawdled in mourning the necessity of getting up without the sun.  Our two-year marker is cold and grey, nothing like the day we’re commemorating – but then, we’re somewhere different.  Everything is different.  Yet here we are, rising on the anniversary of so many summer mornings.

We will always be embarking on new adventures.  Every day seems adventurous now.  That’s all I remember clearly of two years ago: the end of something that started with our walks.  And a beginning.

So, with this day: another start.

by Infinite Joy Photography