Yesterday, J and I reached a milestone: twenty years of marriage. The day was pretty emblematic of our lives, a bit chaotic and unfocused (okay, it was mostly me who was chaotic and unfocused) but ultimately, pleasant. We’ll be celebrating more officially this weekend, with a dinner date and a concert by an artist who will be playing his 2004 album in its entirety, one which was part of the soundtrack to our early marriage. I love you, J.

There’s so much this photo doesn’t say — that we honeymooned in a town in Costa Rica that was undergoing a building boom, so every morning we greeted the day to the sounds of drilling and hammering, not tropical birdsong. That the swim-up bar was closed most of the time, until we finally requested that someone serve us drinks there, mostly so we could say we’d been to the swim-up bar. That there were ants in the syrup every morning at breakfast, but no one on the staff noticed. That we signed up for something we thought was an eco-tour but was actually an extreme sports day which began with a long, bumpy ride on the Pan-American Highway (all potholes), then a horseback ride to a hot springs, where the abrasive mud threatened to scrub my sunburned skin clean off, before it was basically boiled in the hot water of the springs. But that wasn’t all! Then there was lunch, and the zipline with a crew of drunken and unruly British seniors who were complaining that they hadn’t seen any “cappuccino monkeys.” And finally, a terrifying waterslide through the forest that went irresponsibly fast. We also missed our internal flight back to San José for our flight home. We returned home sunburnt and bruised, but highly amused. (There were excellent nature viewing parts of the trip too.) And that’s how this marriage began.

In retrospect it seems fitting that things started out that way, because the past twenty years have certainly been full of thrills (childbirth), chills (multiple bouts of pneumonia, then COVID), and spills (teaching young children how to eat without looking like a kitchen exploded on them). And oh yeah, three bouts of cancer. I lost my dad, we moved states, I tried to make a go of a new career, I finally went back to my old career, but in an entirely different way.

I’m learning to embrace the advantages of aging. I mean, first of all, there’s the simple fact that I get to. But also, I just generally feel more conviction in the things I undertake these days. I’m not tentative. When I actually let myself work on poems, that helps me. But I feel it in other things too. J has also attained this, I think, whether it’s playing music or playing basketball, finding new clients and solving problems for them, or finding delicious new recipes and trying them out. (Because I’m now out of the house three days a week, J has pretty much become the default chef. I’m so grateful for this. I do help out where I can.)

But when I encounter a photo of me from 20 years ago? It’s hard not to judge Present Me, not to mourn my “lost youth.” Leading up to my wedding, I did workouts from a ridiculous book called Buff Brides. While that makes me blush now, look how buff I was! I was still a runner, back then, and the following year I would complete a half marathon. These days, my knees don’t tend to appreciate my attempts to take up running again. I’m not feeling super committed to regular exercise — the most I seem to manage is every so often, I’ll go off on a five mile walk or hike. I guess it’s helpful that I can still do that, although the recovery is pretty grueling. I need to cultivate more respect for the body I live in today. It saw me through two pregnancies and childbirths, multiple bouts of pneumonia, COVID (without leaving me with the devastating and scary long COVID symptoms that friends are continuing to deal with), cancer, recurrent uveitis (currently in remission), cataract surgery, and a Crohn’s diagnosis. Not bad.

Next week is Thanksgiving. Another 10th anniversary, of my recovery from colitis just in time to enjoy the best holiday meal I’d ever had in my life. That’s a pretty high bar for this Thanksgiving to clear, so I’ll just be thankful.