When I was seven – the very age my daughter is now – I cutely quipped to my mom that “anniversaries are family birthdays”.
Growing up, my parents’ anniversaries were always family affairs. On the odd milestone year – like their 25th wedding anniversary and so on – they’d escape for the weekend together, alone and without the noise of three boisterous children. But, for the most part, we were found together, celebrating over a feast my mom had cooked up in the kitchen.
As an adult though, nothing has brought home the notion of family birthdays more than our life now.
Three years ago today, a very brave man got done on knee and gave me a post-it note. Over time, I came to realise that he wasn’t some fly by night pursuit and he proved himself.
He proved himself so often and now, daily, that I no longer think of myself as an exclusion. I am no longer a singular unit who needs to battle away on her own. I am one of three, and our army is strong.
Over the three years we now celebrate together, we have grown. I have seen the confidence evolve in my daughter, and I live for the bedtime stories and group hugs (this is something my kid shouts out at glee, daily) at the end of the work and school day.
As time has progressed and we’ve learnt more and more about being a family, I see how we’ve defined ourselves as one. We’re not usual or conventional, and we’re proud of our atypical definition.
The one thing that we do define ourselves as, above and beyond co-habitation and shared lives, is love.
I’m not talking about the prince on a white horse with damsel in distress love. Granted, our love story has every bit of a fairytale implicit within it but, it always bugged me because, as a child, I never knew what happened after the prince and princess swooned off into the sunset together.
I’m here now, three years later after some sunset romping and castle procurement. Our castle is the home we love and build together, and our chariot fuelled entirely by love.
It is not the usual love story, where a prince finds a princess and they live happily ever after. What happened with us, is that our prince came along and made two of us princesses. And he loves us, far beyond the end of the fairytale.
He loves us past my worries about the future. He loves us past my all too imbedded insecurities. He loves us past my fiercely independent streak that gave him hell at first and wouldn’t let him carry the groceries. He loves us past my fears and he loves us through the part where I think it’s all falling apart (and it actually isn’t).
He loves us through the irritating concerns of real life, and he lets us dream. He’s taught us how to believe in a love. Not the love that ends with trumpets and flouncy white dresses, but the love that puts my daughter to bed with me at night, and reads the same bedtime story over and over again.
It is not the love of noble steads and swashbuckling prince charmings. It is the love that kisses sore knees better and celebrates with me over school reports. It is the love that lets me follow a life dream, and reminds me that things will be cared for together. It is an enduring love that encompasses, and does not exclude.
Beyond the fairytale, there lives a life of family and celebration. Of sharing successes and worrying about the little things together. Once that storybook closes, there lives a life of dinnertimes and midnight cuddles. Of laughing over our days, and making it through the nights together.
And, on the topic of family, his family is not one into which we are invited. We are not guests, nor mere attendees. In his family, we are adored heirlooms, embraced for our quirks, and who carry the same familiar texture of life. We are not invited, at all. We are expected. It is an expectation that we are proud to be participate in. It is an expectation that is home to us.
There lives here, three years after the fairytale began, a life of joy and unity. A life that isn’t battled alone, but as a love triangle that expands beyond ourselves. We’ve joined families and brought together our ideals. We’ve shared loads and eliminated our boundaries. Through living this fairytale, we’ve become part of a larger unit, where conversation is easy and love is the only way.
Today, three years ago, a very brave man started this fairytale, knowing full well that he’d get not one, but two princesses. He knew full well that it wouldn’t be easy, and that life probably wouldn’t be all roses and nights out on the town. That prince didn’t care for convention or concern himself with the probable difficulties that lay ahead. He was, and daily is, courageous.
He gave up sleeping in on Saturdays and cast aside any worries about whether or not boys should run around the garden looking for fairies. He has succinctly slain the dragons of my doubts and loved us, just as we are.
For 1095 days, he has loved us. And for the next million, we will love him.
Happy Family Birthday to my precious loves. And Paul, thank you.