How Lucky Am I?

On December 19th, the day before my 32nd (Good Lawd) birthday, and the day after my now husband’s birthday, I married the absolute love of my life. With our families surrounding us at our home on that Monday night, we said our vows. We told a few friends beforehand, but there was no formal engagement. Dating one day, married the next.

Scott (that’s his name) and I met a few years ago. It wasn’t until we were both single that our acquaintanceship turned to friendship and then to more.

I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s brave, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s strong, he’s smart, he’s a wonderful father, listener and partner. He makes me better and whole. Scott has given me the life I was waiting for, and I hope I have done the same for him.

In 2010, I wrote a post about the Termite Inspector who asked me why I bought such a big house for one person. As I said in that post, after he left, I thought of the scene in Under the Tuscan Sun where the main character has a mini-breakdown over buying a house “for a life she didn’t have.”

This is the scene:

Frances: This house has three bedrooms. What if there’s never anyone to sleep in them? And the kitchen, what if there’s never anyone to cook for? I wake up in the night thinking,”You idiot. I mean, you’re the stupidest woman in the world. You bought a house for a life you don’t even have.”
Martini: Why did you do it, then?
Frances: Because I’m sick of being afraid all the time. And, because I still want things. I want a wedding in this house, and I want a family in this house.

When I think about our little wedding on a Monday night in December, by the Christmas tree, with our daughters as bridesmaids – I tear up every time.  What a sentimental sap I’ve become.

How lucky am I?