To Jameson

Dear Jamie,

Today marks our third wedding anniversary, and it’s hard for me to believe how quickly the time has flown. I know you hate as much as I do (if not more) when people try to give the impression online that their lives and relationships are perfect, so don’t worry… I’ll try not to sound any PDA alarms with this letter. :)

The truth is, marriage is both everything and nothing like I thought it would be. We’ve had our fair share of knock-down, drag-out arguments, but then, I do that with everyone I love the most, so I guess you’re no exception. Chalk it up to my stubbornness and absolute inability to admit when I’m wrong. (I’m still working on it. Promise.) You hate it when I leave two inches of milk in the bottom of my glass and don’t rinse it out. I hate it when you put a box of cereal back in the cabinet that literally has one piece left in it. But marriage is full of compromises, and it’s the art of learning to live together, and truth be told, there’s no one else in the world I would rather live with. You’re kind of OCD, I’m kind of a control freak, but somehow, we just work.

Today also marks six years since our first date, although there was definitely some confusion about which date actually counted as a real date. Remember when we met at Kingston Alley for dinner, and you had just come from seeing a movie with your parents, and you were caught off guard because when Carrie told you that Morgan would be there, you were expecting your (male) high school friend? My memory isn’t the greatest, but I specifically recall certain little things, like how awful my earrings were, and how nervous I felt, and how you got into your blue Jeep with the Tennessee “T” on the back and I couldn’t help but think how it made no sense for me, still in my too-cool-for-school (or so I thought) indie rock phase, to be attracted to you, in your fratastic oversized cargo shorts and Abercrombie polo shirts. Nevertheless, I felt an instant connection, and next thing you know, we’re exchanging music and talking about marriage on date two? Three? And you bought me Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince the day it came out because I just caught up in the series a few weeks before. You went to summer school, I worked at Starbucks and that other awful temp job, and we stayed up all night talking anyway. I can’t even remember what it’s like to be able to function on a few hours of sleep a night. And we listened to Coldplay’s X&Y on repeat. And we went to Six Flags and Warped Tour, and we drove out to the lake and sat on the dock and watched the craziest lightning storm I’ve ever seen. And then we had to say goodbye when I left in August to go back to Charleston to school, and I cried so hard and for so long I can’t even tell you, but then I came back at Christmas for good, and we haven’t been apart since.

Give me an experience over a material gift any day, because that’s how my memories are marked. This time five years ago we went to Boston with my family for summer vacation, and we celebrated our first anniversary by going to see Matt’s cousin’s Beatles cover band play, and you had him dedicate their first song, “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” to me. This time four years ago, we had just gotten engaged and had gone to Hilton Head for vacation, and I began my obsessive wedding planning phase. This time three years ago, we graduated (after having the best semester of my entire college career, I might add), got married, and spent a week lounging by the pool at Atlantis. This time two years ago, we had just made the move out to Salt Lake City from Knoxville, and we didn’t know a soul, and we tried to celebrate our first wedding anniversary by going out to a nice restaurant, but it was a Sunday and we had not yet learned that literally EVERYTHING is closed on Sunday in Utah. But it was the beginning of a great adventure. This time one year ago, we got to spend time in San Francisco and then New York City, and it was so much fun to explore these cities with you and experience their food, their culture, their energy… together.

And now, here we are, in Birmingham, Alabama, six years from the time we met, and I love you more than ever. More often than not, we have blah, sit-at-home-and-veg-on-the-couch days. Nothing too exciting. But that’s what I love about being married to you. We can do absolutely nothing, and we’re doing something, because we’re together. I love having someone around who knows me inside and out, and who can tell immediately when something is wrong, no matter how hard I try to deny it or conceal it. Knowing someone fully means knowing the good and the bad, and the fact that you’re still here, loving me and supporting me and giving me pep talks on my bad days, having seen me at my worst, means everything to me. We may argue all the time, over my backseat driving and your weird food habits and what Redbox movie to get, but if that’s the worst we’ve had to deal with this far, I’d say we’re pretty darn lucky.

I, for one, can’t wait to see what year seven has in store.

Happy anniversary, Jamie. I love you.