As I said on Facebook, our marriage is now the exact same age as most of the after-school and summer staff I’ve employed at The New School.  To celebrate #23 yesterday, we spent the afternoon at glorious Kings River Falls about 40 miles outside of Fayetteville. Though our various GPS systems failed us more than once, thanks to the kindness of Arkansas strangers we eventually found our way there and enjoyed some of the most beautiful sights yet.  Last night Huck had a slumber party at Russell’s and Cheryl’s so that Troy and I could have a night out on our favorite town sans Pokemon & Minecraft monologues.  Next thing we knew we were lying side by side having a couples massage in a dimly lit room with relaxing music, trying not to look at each other to avoid awkward laughter.

On days like this I have lots of home movies playing in my head.  There was that time we packed up all of our humble belongings into a U-Haul truck and headed to Chicago with about 100 bucks.  There was the day I was stranded in a blizzard at the Chicago Aldi with a bunch of cheap groceries when Troy came around the corner with our old rickety grocery cart Mr. Bunker to take us home. I remember Sunday nights in Austin gathering with favorite friends for “X-Files” and highly competitive card games in which I always won and Troy always lost.  I remember New York City summer black-outs and having no electricity or water for over 24 hours, Troy carrying most of our stuff across the GW Bridge where we were picked up by Uncle Ronnie and Aunt Dottie for a few days of luxury.  I remember finishing a book on the A train that made me cry so hard I had to call Troy from the 145th Street station pay phone for comfort.  I remember taking turns acting in Virginia and driving nine hours with two dogs to see each other’s shows.  I remember assisting Troy dressed as a farmer with a guitar in a church yard many, many times.  I have a pretty strong memory of noticing something terrifying on a pregnancy test and having to crawl across the apartment to avoid passing out.  This is when the home movies get overwhelmingly precious and long, full of the world’s cutest baby, toddler and child.  Then I remember packing everything up for the tenth time and heading south to Arkansas to start all over again.  Twenty-three years with Troy by my side has been a mix of hilarity, sweetness, absurdity, frustration, laughter, love, exhaustion, forgiveness, prayers, smoothies, plays, U2 concerts, hairstyles, photographs, homes, jobs, dogs, and a boy.  Might we have 23 more please?

(Years.  Not dogs and boys.)