It’s my eighteenth wedding anniversary. Twenty two years together. My son asked me today how we met. I say, “We were dancing to the band The Ululating Mummies. They were playing the song Lebanese Hillbilly Music.” Charles says, “Oh.” Like he was hoping we met while duel-parachuting down the Alps while sipping champagne.
What I wanted to say but I didn’t: “Kiddo, it takes a lot of work to make a relationship work. In the end we are all flawed humans. We need to lift each other up. Focus on the positive because I guarantee you will bring as much dysfunctional bullshit to the table as your counterpart. Fogiveness and empathy will take you a long way.”