I keeping sitting down to write a post on what being married feels like a year later, on how everything has changed and nothing has changed all at once, on how it feels like flying with my feet planted firmly on the ground, like bursting through the door of a home I never knew I always wanted, but I just can’t seem to pin it down – it’s always rolling right through my fingers.

So instead, here’s a toast of sorts:

Here’s to a year of the deliciously imperfect: leaving unmade beds and unswept floors behind to drive somewhere with the windows down and the music up, your hand on my thigh and mine on the back of your neck; to snorting with laughter and dancing to records in the living room and that look you give me when you’ve finally had enough of my shenanigans; to having no paper towels for a month because we keep spending our weekends consuming the beach and wine country and burritos; to traveling even though it’s never in our budget; to one million eye rolls over one million forgotten tasks; to Sunday mornings spent with pancakes and coffee on the patio; to the taste of your salty-post-surfing skin; to trying to out-stubborn each other in every fight; to cramped dinner parties and new friends; to the smile that explodes on your face when you look up from your guitar and see me walking through the gate; but mostly to feeling young and free, but never rootless.

Steve, you are my best thing. I’d say I couldn’t love you more, but then every sunrise would make a liar of me. I know our marriage probably won’t always look like this, but hot damn, what a way to kick it off. Cheers, darling!

Pretty amazing, actually!

Sorry I’ve been so M.I.A. No excuses – life has just been full and haunting and beautiful.

I’m trying to edge my way back out of my bliss-cocoon and will hopefully be around these parts more frequently.

Thanks for sticking with me.

xoxo.

All photos by the absolutely amazing Cliff Brunk.

Parts I & II.

1. At the end of our kiss, I lay my head on his shoulder and I don’t think I’ve ever loved Steve more then in that moment. Turning, grinning so hard I think our faces might burst. We get to the end of our very short rock-lined “aisle” and there’s really nowhere else to go so we stop and look back at the grinning faces of all of our loved ones and I am giddy. We stand there for a few more moments and no one is quite sure what they’re supposed to do so I throw up my hands and say “That’s it!”

2. We fight the wind through group pictures. Wait wait wait, okay, there’s a lull! Quick! Snap the photo! I’m amazed at how big our family is – so much love that I’ve been born into and found and married into.

3. Gradually the group dwindles until the last people have been captured on film and are heading up the Inn for cocktail hour. It’s just us and Cliff and Malarie (our lovely photographers) and the light is soft and Steve and I sit on the rocks. Cliff tells us to shut our eyes and I lean into Steve and my heartbeat slows and all I can hear is it pounding along to the tune of the waves crashing around us and I melt into the moment and think remember this, right now.

4. Climbing all over Muir Beach for portraits. I forget to pick up my dress as I walk and in seconds it’s picked up so many twigs and sticks and burrs. Nothing in me cares, not even a bit. I pick out the biggest ones and call the rest my souvenirs.

5. Cliff mentioning that he can’t believe that I’m not geeking out over the photo equipment. I think oh yeah, I guess I would normally be salivating over lens and the like. And yet? I just don’t care…

6. We enter the reception. It’s the first time I’ve seen any of the flowers that my Mom arranged. They are lining the long, long table, interspersed with candelabras and all of our loves. The room looks so beautiful and elegant and relaxed – like the world’s best dinner party. It’s exactly what we wanted. Exactly.

7. Hugging everyone. It seems like no one can squeeze me tight enough.

8. A glass of red wine appears in my hand. I am thankful. A plate of food appears. I eat a potato. Yes, singular – I am too excited! I drink all the wine though.

9. My sister starts off the toasts. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so overwhelmed as I was during that hour as the mike passed from hand to hand. I keep squeezing Steve’s hand under the table to keep from exploding from the force of it all. So much love from all of the people who made us who we are – who carried us to this moment. I feel wrung out and fiercely proud and I am the luckiest girl in the world. The. Luckiest.

10. I take the mike and try not to cry and I surprise myself by admitting that for a long time we weren’t sure we even wanted a wedding. It seemed like so much work and energy and we’d been together so long and we wanted to be married but what would going through the ritual mean, really? But that this, this moment is why we decided to do it. Because this is our community and as we’ve gotten older, we’ve realized that our community is family, is everything. That all of you made this a wedding. Then Steve nods and says Now let’s go eat cake!

11. Crowding into the snug room for cake and champagne and it being so snug that I keep smooshing into everyone. It feels like a giant family reunion.

12. Walking back into the patio and seeing that the dance party has already started! Thinking this is how you know your true friends.

13. The joyous first notes of our song begin and Ray’s voice loud and clear and we start dancing. It never occurred to us to practice anything because this is just what we do. Steve spins me and I flash back to him walking up and asking me to dance in swing dance class – I was wearing a thrift store boy’s little league t-shirt and had just turned 18 and it was the first time we ever spoke and I thought he had the biggest grin I’d ever seen and he stepped on my toes and seven years later here we are and he guides me like I’m an extension of his own body. I forget there’s anyone else in the room and I sing the lyrics in his ear and jump a bit when people start clapping at the end of the song. Oh! Right! People are watching!

14. The party begins – we drink and we dance and I think this is probably the best party I’ve ever been to b/c so! many! people! I love! dancing! together! I keep catching glimpses of our parents and they look so happy.

15. At some point, I turn around to see my new husband is now shirtless and shaking it in his vest and tie. Thank god marriage hasn’t changed him a bit.

16. The party ends and we retire to the snug room and curl up in armchairs and people take turns donning fake mustaches and napping in the middle of the floor. I’m not sure I have ever been so tired. I am positive I have never been so happy.

The day after our wedding I was so tired. I would try to formulate thoughts and instead my brain would squint and just spit out TIIIIIRED. I don’t think I have ever been so worn out. So naturally, after a last brunch with our friends and family, we had to pack and get on a plane to Costa Rica.

The red-eye plane ride was like some kind of nightmare come to life. So tired I think I might fall over! and yet! stuck in an aisle seat where I cannot! actually! sleep! I was uncomfortable and increasingly cranky. Steve, in between his long bouts of restful sleep (have I ever been so jealous of his ability to sleep anywhere? no, no I have not), kept assuring me that we would be there soon and I could just sleep on the way to the hotel and then take as long a nap as I wanted. See, we decided very early on that we would be renting a car for this trip, seeing as we’d be traveling during rainy season and had read that Costa Rica’s roads become something of a water park ride during rainy season. Renting a manual was so very much cheaper than an automatic, and as a manual aficionado, I knew it would be much more fun to drive.

Our conversation about it went something like this:

Steve: So it looks like we should get a manual, it’s so much cheaper.

Sierra: Sounds good to me! Wait, can you drive a stick?

Steve: Pretty much, I should probably practice before we go though, but I’ll be just fine.

Sierra: Okay!

Cue: Very tired newlyweds climbing into the car at the San Jose Thrifty rental.  I melt into the passenger seat and buckle my seat belt, delirious at the thought of reclining. And WHAM! A jerk and a stall. I give Steve a look. He grins sheepishly and restarts. WHAM! STALL! Still grinning. My eyebrow arches higher. WHAM!

Very slowly I say, You. Told. Me. You. Could. Drive. Stick.

Steve: Well I thought that I could, I mean, I’d practiced a few times before and then Morgan and I went out in her car last week and I figured that it’s not THAT HARD so I would pick it up really easily.

Me: Pick it up! Driving a stick is not something that you pick up in a foreign country! The highway is right there! You cannot get out of the parking lot!

Steve: Maybe I could practice here and get it.

Me: You want me to teach you how to drive stick in the Thrifty parking lot in Costa Rica? So you can get on the biggest highway in the country and then drive for 5 hours?

Steve: Worth a shot.

And so we practice. And he stalls. And I explain and show him and he stalls. Because it’s really difficult to learn in the best of circumstances and this is pretty much the worst. I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that even though my head is stuffed with cotton, I am about to drive for 5 hours in a country that doesn’t believe in turn signals. I want to cry. Instead I turn to him and say, We’re only two days in and I already want to take your head off! Apparently this is the funniest thing I could have ever said and Steve, in his slap-happy state bursts out laughing. We’re sitting in a Denny’s parking lot and he’s hugging the steering wheel, laughing so hard he can barely breathe and I say It’s not funny! I am really tired! and this makes him laugh even harder and before I know it I’m laughing too and then neither of us can stop and when one of us tries the other starts up again and everyone is staring at us like we have absolutely lost our minds.

I get in the driver’s seat and thread my way on to the highway and it juts off in three directions and we don’t know where we’re going and can’t find anything on the map.  And we go the wrong way and I make a killer three point turn on a gravel hill without hitting anyone and we stop to get gas and the Cheetos taste funny and I am so tired I can’t see straight so I pull off the road and we recline the seats to nap in the hot sun. I curl around my travel pillow and say You make me crazy, you know and he says, I know, but you love me.

And I do.

Photo by the absolutely amazing Cliff Brunk.

Part I here.

1. Steve kisses me when I get up to the Chuppah. When he pulls away his face is stricken and he mouths I don’t think I was supposed to do that. I shrug and grin at him.

2. Walking into our handmade Chuppah at the same time, hand-in-hand with a giant, determined step.

3. Seeing Sarah grinning at me. She doesn’t look nervous at all.

4. Seeing Steve grin at me. He looks more nervous than I think I’ve ever seen him.

5. While David does his short Tom Robbins reading to start off the Ceremony, Steve mouths to me YOU LOOK SO PRETTY.

6. I don’t see anything else. I know other people are there, but I see Steve and only Steve. The emotion on his face is overwhelming and I’m already feeling overwhelmed by this moment myself and by OMG this is actually happening, he’s about to be my husband and he squeezes my hands and beams at me and I think I’m going to cry and so I look at Sarah and she looks so relaxed and I feel calm again.

7. Hearing Morgan’s reading (The Invitation, by Oriah Mountain Dreamer) – so raw and full of emotion. It feels like an invitation to the whole world and I am so present and buzzing that it feels like my skin has an electrical current.

8. Giving my dedication to Steve’s parents – how important and right it feels to thank them for their role in giving me this incredible man. Trying to look them in the eye without crying. Barely choking out the last line (I’m so proud to be entering into the loving family that you have built, though the truth is that you have been family for a very long time.) and running to give them a big group hug. We are family.

7. Hearing Garrett’s reading (Union by Robert Fulghum) and feeling that yes, this is our wedding - finally our wedding, but we have been wedding ourselves together for a long time.

7. Saying our vows (you can read them here). I try to really absorb each one as Sarah is saying it, so that when I say I do, I can really mean it. But then I realize that they are already a part of me – that I absorbed them all in the hours Steve and I spent talking about what we want our marriage to be based on, in reading others’ vows, nodding or shaking our heads, writing them and repeating them and distilling them down. They are already in my heart. They are already in his heart.

8. We have a long minute of silence to absorb the magnitude of the moment. Our eyes are closed and it is quiet and I hear the crashing of the waves and everything melts away. Steve squeezes my hands tightly and I lean forward and touch his forehead with mine. What passes through us feels charged and electric and sacred. Though we’ve written the words in later, this is the moment where I marry him.

9. Hearing our friends and family shout “I DO!” in promises to support us, encourage us and guide us always towards each other. Being blown away by the enthusiasm.

10. David struggling with the rings – looking very, very stressed out as he tries to untie them from the muslin. Isn’t sure which to hand to Sarah first. Panic! Hands them both. Looks very relieved when they are out of his hands.

11. Steve grabs the wrong hand, starts trying to put my ring on it. I try to gently remove it and give him my other hand. Everyone laughs. He blushes.

12. My ring is warm from being passed among so many people we love. It feels loved and worn in and like it’s always been there.

13. Finally losing it as I put the ring on his finger. I have memorized this part and I barely get through it without crying. (With this ring, with these words, and all the words of my heart, I choose you. Over and over again. I marry you and bind my life to yours). I still cannot say these words aloud without tearing up. I just tried.

14. After I finish, euphoria washes over me. I look at Steve and he is (still) grinning. I look at Sarah and she is grinning. I look out at the crowd and everyone is grinning. In my head is hurry up hurry up hurry up!

15. Sarah quotes W.H. Murray (Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness … the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too … Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.) and it occurs to me that yes, this is the riskiest thing I’ve ever done. The bravest and the wildest and the most sacred. That making a commitment this bold has caused something inside me to shift – almost imperceptibly – and it has settled in exactly the right spot with a long, contented sigh.

16. I now pronounce you Married under the laws of the state of California. You may kiss each other. And we do and we do and we do.

1. Steve, the night before the wedding – very, very nervous. Talking through why and he blurts out I just want everything to be perfect for you. I’m so scared I will forget something and ruin it! Assuring him that I won’t even notice as long as he’s waiting at the end of that aisle and we end up married. Midnight, sitting down at our kitchen table with big glasses of red wine – making lists so he’ll feel confident in remembering everything the next day. Watching his shoulders inch down. Curling into him as he slept and touching his face – smiling to myself that tomorrow he would finally be what he’s felt like for such a long time.

2. Seeing my bouquet for the first time on the morning of the wedding – vague ideas come to perfect fruition. Squeeing with delight – my mom beaming because she knows she did her job very, very well.

3. At the salon – Barb running in from getting her makeup done and saying Look! She gave me eyebrows! Pretty much the cutest thing ever. How lucky I am to be getting her as a mother-in-law.

4. Getting ready with the girls, butterscotch sun streaming through the windows and Sarah saying that she was loving the tradition of it all – that women have spent generations sequestering themselves before a wedding and preparing the bride. Breathless to have been born into/found such a community of women – how I couldn’t imagine anyone else with me in those moments.

5. The few quiet minutes tucked into a window seat, Morgan doing my eyes – my mind wandering, the sure rightness of her hands on my face, opening my eyes on command to see her face, hair haloed in light.

6. Adam, from down the stairs: I need a girl!
Sage: For what?
Adam: Not Sierra
Sage, heading down the stairs: It’s Sage, what do you need?
Adam: I don’t want Sierra to know I lost something!
Sage: Ummm…Sierra is right up there.
Me: Hi Adam!
Adam: Oh crap…everything’s fine! I’ve got it covered!
Me: No doubt!

7. The note Steve sent over to my room while we were getting ready, which included this line: “Now that we’re about to be legit, I thought you should have some legit jewelry.” Opening the box to see a gorgeous pearl necklace. It matches my earrings perfectly.

8. Remembering to brush my teeth right before putting on the dress, standing in the bathroom by myself, looking at myself in the mirror, toothpaste foam everywhere – feeling butterflies for the first time all week.

9. Sage, ready early of course – running in and out of the room, disappearing and reappearing with exactly what I didn’t even know I needed. Being so happy that she was thinking so that I didn’t have to.

10. Morgan’s head under my dress – the silent concentration as she attached all 13? 15? 17? points of my bustle. It feels like a meditation. Her palpable relief when it is done.

11. Hearing that everyone was almost down to the beach. Realizing that the frantic readying was dying down. A last look in the mirror. Short-lived butterflies disappearing completely. Everything feels right.

12. Open mouthed excitement, ready to charge down that long walk and do. this. thing. already. Walking like women on a mission. Hearing people say Congratulations! and Happy Wedding Day! as we reach the beach, but through a fog. Grinning at them. Just wanting to see Steve’s face.

13. Coming over the hill. They made an aisle of stones for me. Seeing Steve’s face.

14. Stopping at the end of the aisle, completely stunned to see so many people that I love, from so many areas of my life, ALL STARING AT ME. Feeling an overwhelming urge to acknowledge them. Waving and blurting out Hi Everyone!

We’re still in Costa Rica but I couldn’t resist sharing the preview of our wedding photos. I have so many stories to tell – so much about these last few weeks that I’m still unpacking. But my brand new husband (!!!!) and I hiked straight up a volcano yesterday and now my muscles are crying out for the hot springs.

More very soon!

1) That I do, in fact, discriminate.

People have been asking me what our “colors” are and about six months ago I was so over trying to actually answer this question and so I started saying “I don’t discriminate,” which has gotten me nothing but confused looks but it cracks me up every time so I keep saying it but then yesterday I realized that I do, in fact, discriminate, as we have no pink or purple in our wedding. Aqua, yes. Sunflower, yes. Peacock blue, clover, red, about five shades of orange, yes. But no pink or purple. I am color-prejudiced! Who knew?

2) That my marriage is not your marriage. 

Marriage is one of the most intensely personal journeys imaginable and is also incredibly universal. Everyone has their own ideas about what it means, and what it should look like and how to “do it right” that they are more than happy to share with you. As soon as we were engaged, very well-meaning people came out of the woodwork and began unpacking their ideas about what our wedding and marriage HAD to look like – many of which quite frankly terrified me.

This pressure got to me for a few months until one day it hit me that duh, this is just like every other stage I’ll cross in life. People will judge and will think I’m doing it all wrong and it just really doesn’t matter. Our marriage is just our relationship – no one is going to kidnap me after the wedding and pour me into some scary wife-mold.

Instead we made a point to use these kinds of statements and expectations as discussion points to unpack what we DO want our marriage to look like – what our expectations are, what if anything we think will change…these conversations have been the best part of planning our wedding.

3) That “for the wedding” is a magical phrase.

Let’s look at the following scenario.

************************************

Me: Well I can’t really come to the bar because I was planning on making a cake stand with this platter I found at the thrift store.
Other person: ….. Um. Okay.
Me: Sigh.

************************************

Me: Well I can’t really come to the bar because I was planning on making a cake stand for the wedding with this platter I found at the thrift store.
Other person: Wow that’s so cool!! How much fun!
Me: I KNOW, RIGHT!?!?!

4) That the details matter, except for when they don’t.

Planning a wedding has been a hilarious clash of various aspects of my personality. On the one hand, we have my artist side who is rather obsessed with aesthetics and has very strong opinions on how things should go but not match and takes immense delight in creating and stumbling upon beautiful vignettes and feels strongly that the little things in life should be noticed and relished.

And on the other we have my…well….lazy very, very laid-back bohemian side, which basically says who cares what color the linens are? We’d rather be at the beach than meeting with any vendors… and anyways the party will happen because our friends and family are a blast, we’ll be blissful and surrounded by so much love, we’ll end up married and nothing else matters very much.

And then! bringing up the rear – my total Type-A side, which loves lists and crossing things off of them (why yes, you can be lazy and neurotic all at the same time – it’s a great way to drive yourself slowly crazy), who makes lists of lists and has about 3,490 google documents and is still pretty sure 2 weeks out that there’s a bunch of things she’s forgetting (this is the side that regularly emails Steve things like “WHO IS PICKING UP THE CAKES!?!?!!”).

Then you throw my lovely partner into the mix. I cannot stress enough how incredibly involved Steve has been through this whole process (especially in the making-things-happen arena), but he pretty much cares about three things and three things only:

Me, at the very beginning of planning: What are your priorities for the wedding?
Steve: (short pause) Good food, lots of alcohol, great music.
Me: Succinct! Nothing else?
Steve: I also want a really cool ring and to go somewhere awesome for the honeymoon and to finally be married to you.
Me: Fair enough, dude.

So we pretty much planned the wedding backwards (at least, backwards according to the migraine-inducing knot.com, which, I kid you not, insisted that I should have figured out how I was going to wear my hair SIX MONTHS OUT or I would be VERY VERY BEHIND), wherein we focused on the things that we decided really DID matter to us (a ceremony that was deeply personal / creating a warm and intimate atmosphere for our guests / spending quality time with our friends and family / good food / a great dance party / killer photography) and didn’t really worry about the details, and then the perfect details sort of just appeared along the way as I was going about my life and I was like hey, thanks life! or they didn’t and we were like ehhh who needs that anyways and now we have a vaguely cohesive event planned and no idea how that really happened….ta-da!

5) That this is exactly right.

Exactly.

I confess that I really never believed Proposition 8 would pass. I had a moment of doubt when I was filling out my absentee ballot, when I thought wow, that question is worded rather strangely. I hope people understand this is a vote to remove rights. But I was working day and night on the Obama campaign and I checked the numbers regularly and they were so close and I thought that the work that I was doing – registering young people, turning out progressives in large numbers – would be enough.

Every time I saw a Yes on 8 commercial, informing me that gay people marrying would hurt my upcoming marriage and damage children, my stomach constricted. The phone banks I was running were all calling other states. I only spoke to California voters when I was calling to ask volunteers to come in for shifts. But I waved this off, thinking they will pull this out, this is California, this is something that we can’t lose.

You know the rest.

We have been constructing our Chuppah slowly over the past several weeks. As we’ve examined wedding traditions from our cultures, the Chuppah is one that resonates deeply and that we will be honoring. It symbolizes the home the couple will build together, is open on all sides to represent hospitality to all guests, and holds nothing inside it as a reminder that home is the people within it, not the possessions.

Steve and I talked recently about when we “knew.” I have so many different moments – when I knew he was special, when I knew that I loved him, when I knew that I loved him enough to fight for him, when I knew I would love him always. But I knew I wanted to marry him when I realized that he was my home. That no matter where I was or what I was doing, home was my head on his chest and my hand over his heart.

It was important to us to build the structure from scratch, by hand, just the two of us. Steve selected and stained the poles, we crouched on the floor of Home Depot, cutting PVC pipe, mixed and poured 80 pounds of concrete into foil cake pans. We bought six yards of unbleached cloth and Steve folded while I ironed and Steve pinned and I sewed. Last night I embroidered our names and a nod to our favorite Tom Robbins quote on it in teal thread. It is plain and imperfect, but it is ours.

I am trying not to feel guilty that this family that Steve and I have built will be recognized. That we will be a legal family when so many other families have been stripped of that right. I’m trying to find the silver lining – trying to be thankful that the 18 thousand married same-sex couples will not be forcibly divorced. Hoping that the lives and stories of these families will show people that there is nothing to fear.

Guilt is an unproductive emotion.

So instead, I will say this: this is my fight, too. I will not accept entering into an institution that discriminates. I don’t believe that anyone’s civil rights should be put to a popular vote, but if that’s the way that this will be won, then that’s the way we will win it. I’ve always believed that an institution is best changed from the inside out. When liberals would threaten to move away during the Bush years, it always felt like the coward’s way out. Democracy is not always easy, but this is your country – show up, do the work, we need you here now more than ever.

And so we will marry, and we will fight until our friends and neighbors can do the same. And I promise you this: when this makes it back on the ballot, be it in 2010 or 2012, we will do the work. We will donate. We will make phone calls. We will pound pavement.

We will show up hand-in-hand and we will stand with you.

The bottom line is that (a) people are never perfect, but love can be, (b) that is the one and only way that the mediocre and vile can be transformed, and (c) doing that makes it that. We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love. -Tom Robbins

I keep trying to get under Steve’s skin by widening my eyes and saying things like TWENTY-FIVE and QUARTER-CENTURY and REAL ADULTHOOD BOOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA and it’s totally not working and internet? this is making me mad! How am I supposed to milk this when he’s so well-adjusted and unconcerned about his rapid descent into old(er) age??

Our last conversation went like this:

Me: So are you going to have a quarter-life crisis now?
Steve: What’s that?
Me: You know, where you freak out about how you’re already 25 and haven’t done what you wanted to do by now and omg you’re a MAN now and what are you doing with your life and where is all of this going??
Steve: What? That exists? Where do you come up with these things?
Me: Yes!  It totally exists! There’s even a book!
Steve: Well no…I’ve done all the things I’ve wanted to and then some.
Me: Seriously? No worries?
Steve: Nope, my life is awesome, why would I be scared of what’s next?

And you know what? His life is pretty freakin awesome and it’s that way because he consistently puts in the work to make it so. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the  instant-gratification-obsessed / everything-is-disposable label that my generation has been (probably quite deservedly) slapped with. I’ve realized that one of the things that I love so dearly about Steve is how much he eschews those values. To Steve, anything worth having is worth working for – period. When the going gets tough, he digs in his heels and fights – it wouldn’t even occur to him to walk away. (Seriously, he pulled a tendon in like mile SIX of the Marine Corps Marathon and still ran/limped/hopped across the finish line)(then he had to do physical therapy for months before he could run again)(sometimes this characteristic works against him).

Given this whole marriage adventure we’re about to embark on, we’ve been talking a lot about our relationship – what kinds of vows we’d like to make, the values that will ground our marriage & family, and a lot of it ends up being about how we’ll deal with the great unknowable. And for me, the great unknowable boils down to this: we are so solid and so happy – ridiculous, can’t stop smiling, miss you when you leave for work omg gag me happy – but we’re both also realists and know it won’t always be so. We’ve hit a few rough patches on our way here and we’ll hit many more over the next decades of loving each other. As someone who likes both to plan and to have control (ahem, just a bit), the whole jumping-in-with-both-feet-no-guarantees side of lifelong commitment terrifies me.

But Steve? Not so much. His faith in our ability to weather anything has been unwavering. When I start fretting and what-ifing he says this: I am always going to love you and what we have is once-in-a-lifetime and it is sacred and it is lucky and it will be work sometimes, of course it will be work, but what good thing isn’t? And we will work as hard as necessary through those times because it will always, always be worth it. We have fought for each other before and we will choose to fight for each other as many times as we have to.

Because I believe in you and you believe in me.

And that? That has gone a long way towards assuaging my fears. Because that? Well that right there is the mark of a damn good man.

I’ve realized my needling falls on deaf ears because Steve has been a man for a long while now – because he’s already well-versed in figuring out what he really wants and making it happen, because he communicates his needs and works hard to balance all the loves in his life, because he’s already grown into himself and found his strengths and strengthened his weaknesses. Because he sees this as a lifelong process and will continue to do so.

Steve, If I am lucky enough to wander this world with only your hand in mine, it will be enough.

Happy Birthday Love. xoxo.