I am just overflowing with joy and pride today, since this day (July 4, 2005) marks the 25th anniversary of my marriage to a cute Canadian guy who used to be my brother’s best friend.
On July 4, 1980 my fella and I got married on one of the hottest days of the year. A very cheap wedding it was: few guests, the wedding dress was bought at a thrift store, my mother baked the wedding cake, we served $4 champagne. Both the groom and I bumbled when reciting our vows, although we did manage to remember each other’s name. That evening, instead of the honeymoon trip that we’d planned, we went out and bought some fireworks and spent the night with a bang.
Now, 25 years later, he is a lot greyer and I am a lot wrinklier, but we get more of a bang out of each other than ever, which just goes to prove that marriage is one of those rare things (like wine and cheese) that can get better and richer and tastier with age.