the best two years

Tomorrow marks mine and Michael's anniversary, two years since we got married and three years minus one day since we met. It's sometimes interesting to think that three years ago on May 5, as I flew to Salt Lake from Portland, I didn't for a minute think that I'd be getting married one short year later.

I'm so glad that we did.

Michael and I met playing ultimate frisbee, or maybe home teaching, or was it over smoothies? Whichever story you subscribe to, it wasn't long before we were inseparable. I liked him because he made me laugh, we could talk all day and all night, he had that fantastic dimple. When six weeks later I left him for two weeks in Mexico and two months in Oregon, he came to visit me, driving 900 miles in record-breaking heat in a black car with no air conditioning. Then it was serious, and three months later we were engaged.

Our wedding was perfect, but I don't remember much of it. Just Michael's goofy grin and my face sore from smiling and an intense gratitude for waterproof mascara after all that happy crying.

Now it's been two years, and seems like we're starting it out much like we have each May since '07: one in school, the other looking for work, and both of us happy together.

Thanks for being sweet, thanks for being silly. I love you, Michael.