We’ve lived a lot of life in the three years we’ve been married.
Some can be counted: 4 houses. 4 jobs. 3 towns. 2 years of grad school. 1 dog. 1 baby.
Some cannot: Countless date nights. Countless trips. Countless meals cooked together in our kitchen. Several heated arguments and cry sessions (me). Many prayers prayed together. Several dreams realized.
As a whole, my years spent as a Mrs. have been far better than I could have ever imagined when Taylor first popped the question in the park that night. I mean, I knew I loved him and he definitely checked every box on the “Who I hope to marry” checklist I kept safely in my mind but what would our marriage actually look like? Would our day-to-day at all resemble the fairytale I had dreamed up? What would our relationship look like once life kicked in – moves, job changes, children, car trouble, health issues, family drama?
The other night Taylor and I were unpacking in our bathroom. I was hyper-focused on how to best organize our shelves (his and hers, of course) when he walked over and gave me a bear hug and said:
“I know we aren’t perfect but I think we’re pretty perfect together. I love what we’re doing here.”
I looked up at him and felt so content and incredibly thankful for him. For us. Our marriage. That moment. He said everything I felt and as always, said it in about 100 less words than I would have used. We’re two imperfect people choosing every day to love one another, in the big and little ways, failing sometimes but then trying again. And that makes us perfect.