10 years

Ten years ago I woke up just as tired as I am today. Routine as usual, my legs hung over the side of the bed as I took a deep breath ready or not so ready to take on the day. THE "Day". I was so nauseous, unsure and afraid of what the rest of our lives was going to be like. Was I going to be June Cleaver donning aprons, meatloaf and kissing her husband Good Morning and Night everyday without fail? or like the many couples who end up divorced by the 3rd year, wondering why they did it in the first place… I remember looking over my shoulder at a man that wasn't there. Maybe he was just as lost in thought as I was because that "day" was the very one that started our lives together. Sounds sort of stupid even romantic, I know, but I even remember ruffling through the drawer to stare at my ring, impatient as I was. I wanted to wear it right then but I had to wait, omg! hours till it was slipped on my finger by a man who said he loved me.

"I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mr. So and So" was shouted not 12 hours later amongst laughter and applause from a hundred people watching us holding hands and smiling, and afraid as Hell. Yes, I said Mr. and Mr. The pastor was just as nervous as we were. Even made us say our vows twice. Guess he wanted to make sure we knew the rules to longevity and a life time of happiness. Were we not listening…?

Fast forward to a year later. I woke up just the same as I flung my legs over the side of the bed but a little more carefully. Our little boy was sound asleep between me and cold spot and I was once again wracked with nausea. This time it wasn't from being September 27th, though. It was son number 2 making it known that he too, would soon be my routine. I looked over my shoulder to a man that wasn't there. It was the last race of the season.

I was quickly reminded that even though it was our 1st anniversary, first meaning not the 2nd or 3rd was just a day and not so important. What's the ideal gift you give on the 1st one? Paper right? Paper I had. It was a paper plate with a plastic spoon and napkin left sitting on the cooler near the trailer. No candlelit dinner on fine china in a dimly lit room full of hormones and testosterone. The flame was that of a match used to light the grill so I could burn a few burgers and hotdogs for all who came to cheer him on. June Cleaver I wasn't but the meatloaf and kisses I could handle.

Years later, the same day passes by with the same routine of paper plates and plastic spoons. September 27th became not our anniversary but the end of the season and something he looked forward to. Oh I enjoyed myself, no doubt. I was proud of him. That man flying down the drag strip at a 130 some miles an hour was my husband. I worried sick every time he got behind the wheel to the point it was nauseating but I cheered him on while snapping pictures of the same thing over and over again before going back to the trailer to prepare for the next meal or pick up after the last one. Soon as he came back and climbed out the car, I took the time slip from trembling fingers, not of mine but my husband's. Sometimes I couldn't help but pause with my hand on his and looked at the rings we slipped on each other's fingers so many years ago. It truly didn't matter if we hadn't the usual and customary anniversary as long as I was with him. Just sometimes I had wished for the surprise date or something written on the inside of my card that was still in the small grocery bag. I have no regrets, please remember that. I loved him. I loved the thought. It became a tradition of sorts.

Fast forward one last time, ten years later. I wake up as tired as I had then and carefully dropped my legs over the side of the very same bed. This time I couldn't get up. I had no strength. I looked over my shoulder to a man that wasn't there. That side of the bed hadn't been slept in for along time. I felt just as lost as that very day 10 years before. June Cleaver I wasn't. Never made any claim to be so. But we did become like the majority that split before making the mile stone for reasons better left unsaid.This year, I'll celebrate alone. No paper plates other than the ones my boys will eat from later in the evening. This year I have nothing to be proud of but those very children that came from a love that was no longer anything. I won't be at a race track sitting in the bleachers holding a camera full of pictures of THE day, but numbly watching the little white lines passing me by as I drove for hours not wanting to go back home to an empty house.

This year, I found myself behind the wheel nowhere near in control of my own life, searching for some or any direction other than the cold metal signs on the side of the highway. I seriously feel just as empty as the fields that pass me by. Right now, I wish for an unsigned card in a Wal-Mart bag waiting for me on the counter when I do get home... But I know better. As I have learned for the last 10 years, September 27th is just a day like any other.

Maybe I will light a candle tonight at 7:00 pm sharp. If for anything, its to shed some light on the ring that no longer adorns my trembling finger.

Maybe…