25 years: How did I get so lucky? (A love letter...)

The weekend "we" began:
1996, Cape Flattery, WA

It's extraordinary that here we are at what we together designated our anniversary date, 25 years later. Who knew, when we looked at each other intently after a few bottles of wine, that we'd land where we are now? 

Then: dangling our feet over cliff's edge at Cape Flattery, holding hands at Lake Crescent, camped in a defunct taxidermy shed in the wilds of the Olympic peninsula, Portishead our soundtrack... no thought of a future together.  

Now: we've traveled, climbed, sailed, hiked, and meandered through endless experiences together; you've traveled the world on ships, and here you are, back home with me. 

You are one of the smartest, most knowledgeable, skilled, talented, caring, and creative humans I've ever met. And yes, funny, even though you laugh at your jokes more than anyone else, while we laugh at you laughing at them. I don't think there's anything you can't do, and you're definitely the one I want to be with should the world abruptly end. (Maybe your sister, too.)

Together, we navigated some rough waters and dicey storms. The roughest, a year-long separation, taught us hard lessons with lasting value. I wouldn't trade that time for anything because it got us here, despite exquisite anguish.

I shared what we learned a few years later in a post called 18 tips. We'd set a new course and found our way. 

Now, at 25, we're clearly here for the long haul. I can't imagine my life without you (although I will... because Gavin de Becker's Gift of Fear). 

And, I count my blessings every day. You lift me up when I need lifting, hold me accountable when I don't do what I say I'm going to, call me out when I'm mired in my spaghetti brain, nudge me forward, and make me laugh because you can (and I make you laugh, too, even with, as your dear cousin once said, no humor of my own). 

With you, life is an endless adventure, an awesome exploration, and a living testament that we can create what we want, change what we must, and find #momentsofjoy in the here and now. I can't imagine a better partner to plan a life with, build a house with, work out every morning with, wake up to, and all the other big and small things we do.

To borrow from Red Green, "if she doesn't find ya handsome, she better find ya handy." Thankfully, you're both, and then some. 

Looking forward to what the future brings, knowing it just gets better from here. 

Grace required: the end of this pandemic winter

Outside, the birds are singing and the plants are budding. 

As we say goodbye to winter and embrace the scents, sounds, and sights of spring, there's light at the end of this pandemic tunnel. Here in the northwest corner of these "united" states, the days are longer, it's light later, and on the horizon is a vaccine for everyone who wants one, even though the rollout—for some of us—is excruciatingly slow.  

Experience shared, but different 

What that means is that many of us are still hunkered down, tucked in at home, keeping ourselves and others safe, with some semblance of a meaningful life, while some venture out more safely. Some of us are exhausted, some are traumatized, some assess their risks and do what they must to stay sane, while the truly introverted relish the quiet and lowered expectations. 

When we finally put this year-long pandemic winter to bed, such as there will be an end, we will have some form of collective PTSD. While many of us have experienced trauma previously, none of us have experienced trauma together, so broadly, collectively; in this case, myriad losses, challenges, and major life changes due to a pandemic.  

Grace, required.  

To expect normalcy now and in the future is expecting too much. And while "normal" has a nice ring to it after what has seemed abnormal for so long now, an important question to ask is, "What do I want now?" Were the 'before times' all that or is there a better tomorrow ahead? 

While we are, generally speaking, a resilient and capable society, priding ourselves on productivity, we'll need time to reflect, regroup, and assign meaning to this experience. We must re-evaluate our expectations, and while I believe the last year had all of us assessing meaning and priorities, this may look different as we step back into "real" life. 

As we emerge, much has changed. Some of our favorite places are gone. Our habits have likely changed, both good and bad. And we may have lost friends or family, whether to the virus, other health conditions, or to personal beliefs we learned were too different from our own. 

Some of us are already working through this, but others will need more time because what's true for many is that dreams were paused, goals revised, priorities re-evaluated. To borrow from my corporate life, what do you want to stop, start, or keep? 

Personally, I feel like I'm coming out of a long hibernation, an endless winter with few interactions. I'm still head down, working deadline-to-deadline, staying home, staying safe until it's my turn for a vaccine, but hope is in the air and not far away. But as I shake off the dregs of winter, I'm thinking about what's next. 

I hope you'll give yourself grace to be, do, and feel different for a while. Take this time as we emerge to learn and experience the world a little more personally, more mindfully. Remember, your point of power is in *this* moment. 

What do you want to take away from this year of change?  

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