October 30, 2001
Anyone know what
the protocol is for celebrating special anniversaries after you're
not talking about celebrating the actual wedding
anniversary. (In our case, that's still another eight months,
twenty-days and eight hours away ... not that anybody's counting.) I'm talking about
all of the other, more personal/less official anniversaries that two
people collect during the course of a romantic relationship: all of the
little special occasions that Hallmark doesn't make cards for.
anniversary of the first hello. The anniversary of the first kiss. The
anniversary of the first "sleep-over."
in some cases ... ahem ...
the anniversary of all three combined.)
these anniversaries become obsolete once a couple ties the knot? Or
are they still considered viable reasons for celebration? Are you still
allowed to make a moderate amount of fuss over them? And if you are
allowed, what constitutes a 'moderate amount' of fuss? For instance,
is hiring a sky-writer considered excessive? Or should you just stick
to confetti and marching bands?
is the sort of stuff I'm wondering about today.
morning, when I reminded David that today is our three-year
'anniversary' -- three years since the day I got off that airplane and we met each other for the first time,
face-to-face -- he didn't seem much impressed. If anything, he seemed
slightly disturbed by the news.
worry," I hastened to reassure him. I know that look of panic when I
see it. "You're not expected to do anything about
is not strictly true, of course. And he knows it. As unofficial
anniversaries go, he knows that this one rates about an *11* on Secra's
1-to-10 Important Occasion Meter, right after Tot Births and the
Sobriety Anniversary. Not only is today the anniversary of the most
unexpectedly exciting, most thrillingly romantic evening of our lives,
it is also a celebration of all the good things that followed.
this one might not be the end of the world. But it might make things
pretty darned unpleasant around the
household until then.
out of deference to the sad and unsettled condition of the world right
now, I'm not interested in doing anything wild or noisy or flamboyant
to commemorate the occasion. Neither one of us has the *emotional
oomph* for it right now: the muted observance suits us just
fine. And out of deference to the unsettled condition of our finances (see: Three Weeks of Temporary Voluntary
Unemployment), I'm not expecting to celebrate in any way that involves
since neither one of us HAS any right now.)
not the celebrating that counts, anyway. It's the remembering. And I'm
more than happy to "remember" this special day in small but significant
ways. A spontaneous midafternoon phone call. An unsolicited foot
massage. Turning the radio off so we can talk in the car. Forfeiting
the remote control without complaint. Cooking dinner. Watching the
news. Peeling a mango. Taking turns on the computer. Borrowing a pair
of his socks. Bedtime bowls of Apple Cinnamon Cheerios. A gentle
fingertip beneath my chin as he kisses me.
other words: all the stuff we do every day anyway.
Which -- when you think about it -- may be exactly the sort of
*protocol* required for this occasion.