Dear Elli,
Your dad and I just celebrated our 18th Wedding Anniversary. I've been married to him for as long as it takes to raise a kid and send it off to college. Holy shit. That's crazy!
We started dating when I was 18, a senior in high school. He was my prom date. And we got married a week after I graduated from college. I was 22 years old on our wedding day. He was 26.
A lot of people who start out together so young don't make it. I know that. I knew that then, too. We were babies. We were dumb as shit. Hell, we're still dumb as shit sometimes. But we're still here. So far, so good.
Marriage means different things to different people. What works for one couple may not work for another. And if you look at the statistics, nothing works at all for a whole lot of people.
Marriage, for us, is something very different from what you see in those ridiculous Disney movies you watched when you were little. I don't believe in fairy tales. Or even the idea of soulmates. Or happily ever after. And I sure as shit never wanted a knight in shining armor.
I wanted a teammate. A right hand man. Someone who shared my vision for the future and would build it with me. Not for me. With me. And I got what I wanted.
I'm not a particularly romantic woman in the general sense. I don't like flowers or cards or candy. Jewelry is annoying and mostly unnecessary. I don't want him to profess his love for me loudly from a rooftop. That's embarrassing. And I tend to think people who do that public love gushing bullshit are probably a train wreck behind closed doors.
But what I do love is a good story. A good story is real. It's not concerned with shallow, petty, idealistic bullshit. It's more concerned with adventure, hardship, and defeating the odds. It's about victory. That's true romance. And in that way, I'm romantic as hell.
Your dad and I have a long history. You know those Drake lyrics? "...Started from the bottom, now we here. Started from the bottom, now the whole team's fu**in' here..." That's an accurate representation of our story.
My most vivid memories of our first apartment are of taping plastic sheeting over the windows in the winter, doing college homework on our broken down ass couch that would shatter your tailbone if you sat down too fast, and eating a diet almost exclusively of French toast, spaghetti, and hamburger helper. But the best was us cracking up laughing every time the girl above us had her boyfriend over. They had the loudest, most obnoxious sex I've ever heard in my life. There's no way on earth she wasn't faking.
Your dad worked two jobs back then. I went to college full time and worked at night. We worked our young little asses off and lived in a horrific little apartment in the hood. Money was crazy tight and there were definitely times we were super stressed. But we also had a ton of fun. Building together.
We did that for a long time. The next apartment a slight upgrade from the last. And a few years after I graduated from college, landed a full time job, and we bought our first tiny little house, it was your dad's turn to get educated.
He had to go get his GED first. Yep. That's right. Your dad never graduated from high school the regular way. He was smart enough to skip a grade in elementary school, but dumb enough to drop out of high school as a teenager. We all do dumb shit sometimes. And his circumstances were a hell of a lot more difficult than mine in high school. But he was hell bent on overcoming that.
So he went out and found a program that helped people prepare for the GED. He went there after work at night and studied his ass off. And he passed. That program he attended had a graduation ceremony of sorts for all the students who passed. They chose him to speak. I was so proud of him that day, watching him at the podium. That's romance right there. He's a total badass.
He applied to college next. And I figured if he was gonna be tied up with school, I should probably go to grad school at the same time so we could both be exhausted and stressed together. What could be better than that!? So I worked during the day and went to school at night while he went to school all day and worked at night. And as busy as we both were, those were happy days too. Building together.
My most vivid memories from those days include helping him with College Algebra. Your dad is a really smart guy. But he was in his late 20's by then, and hadn't been in a formal classroom for a VERY long time. So it was a challenge at first. I don't know how many times he threw his Algebra book across the room, but it was a lot. There was also a lot of yelling about Algebra. On his part and mine. He got an A in College Algebra. And he eventually graduated from college with Honors. I was proud that day, too. I don't cry a lot, but I cried that day watching him walk across the stage. Building together. Damn that's romantic.
And six months later, I graduated again too. I was also 2 months pregnant with you. I almost vomited during my graduation ceremony. That was a pretty unromantic romantic day.
Then we had you. And OMG I was a basket case. You were not a fun baby. We were all laughing together a few weeks ago looking through pictures of us when you were a baby. In every photo, we looked horrible. Exhausted. Blood shot eyes. We were like the walking dead. You never slept much and you spent a good part of every waking hour screaming. Colic. Very romantic. But we made it without dropping you off at the fire station, and look at you now!
And this life we have today. This only life you know. We built this together. From nothing. He and I. 22 years later, 18 of them married, we're here. And we're not done yet. Far from it. We're still building. Because that's what marriage is about. That's what life is about. Building something real.
It's not about shallow professions of gushing love shouted from a rooftop or all over Facebook. Or remembering to buy a card and some mediocre chocolate on Valentines Day. Or being jealous or insecure or shallow or petty or materialistic with your spouse and thinking that's normal. Like, "Oh I'm so jealous because that other girl or guy spoke to you. Or because you achieved something I didn't. Or because I just generally need to be the center of your attention at all times and I can't endure life if I'm not. Fix my insecurities. My character flaws are your problem because you married me. Now buy me a gift and a trip to Tahiti and tell the whole world how much you love me or I'm gonna be miserable and make you miserable along with me."
That's kid shit. But grown people do it every day. Lots of them. I'm not joking.
You gotta grow up if you're gonna build something real, whether you're married or not.
Fairytales aren't real. But epic novels are. Write an epic novel, kid. Then build it. Live it. It takes your whole life, and it's super hard work. You never know how it's going to end, because the story doesn't end until you're dead. Anything is possible. Literally anything. It's a little scary. But it's also pretty freaking amazing along the way.
Your dad and I are fortunate to have found each other and built a life together. We make an epic team. But here's the most beautiful part: We're both just fine and dandy on our own. We're not two halves of one thing. We're two completely whole things who joined forces. We don't need each other. We choose each other. Needing someone isn't romantic. It's desperate and actually kind of gross. But choosing someone is sexy as hell. Remember that.
I love you.
Mom
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