Our 8th anniversary

Tim and I just celebrated #8. Eight. As in years. How can this be possible? We're still only 23. So that means there is no way we could be raising our glasses to toast these past eight years. A dream, perhaps? A wild, crazy dream in which we have been riding the winds of change through moves, babies, yurts, dogs, farms, births, friends, travel ...

I honestly can't remember most of my vows to Tim - or his to me. I can remember snippets of that day in Wales, surrounded by many people who did not even know us. I can remember the wind swirling around us, pushing and pulling. I can remember looking at a picture someone had taken of us from a distance, but I don't exactly remember what I was feeling at the time. (This would be the picture of him dropping me onto the ground. In it, he looks like Bigfoot; I look dead.) Do most people remember their wedding day in detail? Or do people look at a picture and make it into a memory? And why do I remember that he ate most of my breakfast that morning, but not what color our handfasting cloth was?

People talk about living their life over: what they wish was different, what they would have changed. I've been thinking about this lately and have come to my conclusion. In regards to these past eight years with Tim, I'd do it all over again in a second. As corny as it sounds - he is my best friend, my lover and my partner. I would almost go so far as to say he is my "other half," but only if we are talking about opposites attracting... And while I know I'm not his 'soulmate' because he doesn't believe in things he can't see, I feel he is mine. So while we don't share a "single thought" our hearts do "beat as one." (I thought this came from Shakespeare - apparently it's Keats.)

What a ride it's been. And eight years - hell, this is just the beginning. Lechyd da, babe...