On the 29th of December, my marriage turned two.
For some people, a wedding anniversary is an occassion to be celebrated with friends and family, a reason to throw a party. For me, it’s a private affair – I’d like a romantic dinner, where V and I hold hands and make moo-eyes at each other.
However, so far it’s been neither. Our first anniversary was, you might recall, spent ill in bed. Our second was spent at a wedding, somebody else’s.
The fact is that 29/12 is a special date in our family. Apart from our anniversary, and now my cousin’s, it is V’s parents’ anniversary. It is also my mom’s birthday, the birthday of her godchild (another cousin) and since last year, the birthday of our first niece. So it’s a celebration to be divided and shared among a lot of people and lot of mutual wishng and greeting goes on.
Telephone conversations are weird. For example:
Mother-in-law: Ohhh happy anniversary
Me: Happy anniversary to you too.
But anyway, this anniversary was sweet (see pic of V wearing his heart of his sleeve).
The first year of marriage, I was warned, is the toughest. If you can get through that, my brother-in-law told me, you’re set. But my first year was lovely. Yes, there were adjustments. But V and I spent the first four months of our married life in different countries and the next couple of months being delighted that we were at last, literally, on common ground. By the time the disaffection set in, the year was over.
Not so in year two. This is where we struggled with the idiosyncracies of living together. Of little power trips. Of tussling over work-share. Of letting the strain of work-work seep into the home. Of contemplating our finances. Of not being on our best behaviour.
I realised that instead of knowing V more over the past two years, I know him less. I was closest in soul and spirit to him in the first month that we met and since then it’s been a drifting apart. Of course, we know more about each other – about how I don’t switch the lights off and about how he tends to leave credit card slips around – but in emotion, we seem to take each other for granted. There is a obvious less hand-holding but also there is more.
Right upto the evening of our anniversary we were in fight – over control of the TV remote.
But at the end of the day, it’s still there. The love. The waiting for each other to come home in the evening. The looking around for each other at a party. The giggles and the tickling and the private language that we try not to do in front of other people. The waking up at the same time in the middle of the night and reaching for each other.
There are many reasons and ways in which people go into marriage. Mine was impulsively, truly, madly and deeply. After two years, it’s still like that.