You don’t find greeting cards specifically for eleven years of marriage. It doesn’t have the round number caché of 10 years, although I think symbolically, it’s actually kind of nice. 11. Two people, standing together.
By 11 years of marriage, you’ve realized that you are two different people, and it’s okay to take different paths with different approaches. There’s we, but there’s you and there’s me. When the children both have sleepovers, it’s okay to spend date night in your own house, in separate rooms, on separate floors, passing in the kitchen when the popcorn is ready. He never has to read an Austen novel and I never have to watch Game of Thrones. We, me, you.
By 11 years in, you’ve gone through some crap together and you’ve had to actively decide you want to make it. Sometimes multiple times a day. And since you’ve decided to make it, you’ve agreed to disagree on any number of issues, because at the end of a long, exhausting day, you strain against red-lights and traffic, wishing the miles away, to get to the person who makes home home.
I recently heard the story of how my husband’s partial one-ear hearing loss came about as a teenager. (Sometimes he really doesn’t hear me.) How had I never heard it before? We can communicate with a look when we need to, and balance schedules like spinning plates, but we still have stories to tell each other. It’s nice to know.
The traditional symbol of the eleventh year is steel. I kind of love that. Steel is strong and accessible and built to last. 11 years in, we’ve built our foundation. Now, we’re working on our framework.
11 years in, I’m more appreciative than ever that we made a we from you and me.