Six thousand, nine hundred, thirty-five

Six thousand, nine hundred, thirty-five days have come and gone.

Six thousand, nine hundred, thirty-five mornings have dawned;

Some stormy and gray, others clear and bright.

Some snow-filled, others dew-laden, and still others hot and hazy.

Days of joy and of sorrow, of hope and of pain,

Days of trial and testing, of new strength,

Days of marriage.

The day it began was the hot-and-hazy kind of day. Filled with the flurry of anticipation, preparation; detail and detail falling into place. The dress, satiny white, the veil, the locket; all in place. The photographs, the hushed whispers, the anxiety of family meeting family meeting family. Two systems colliding to spin off an entirely new one, orbiting alone, yet strangely still connected.

And then, it passed.

Quicker and quicker the days have come,

faster and faster the years have gone;

until today.

We mark today at the nineteenth year.

And love has grown deep and strong,

the chord of three strands ever present,

the depth of knowledge even greater,

the awareness of sacrifice and delight,

ever brighter.

Happy six thousand nine hundred and thirty-fifth day.

Happy nineteenth year.

Happy Anniversary, darling!