On this day, eight years ago, I woke to Peter’s phone call saying he had been bumped from his flight. The Army wouldn’t let him off early the day before to get to his own wedding. He made it just in time, though I guess we would have stalled the ceremony for him. The rest of the day is a bit of a blur.

We reached a point in the last year where we have been together more than half our married lives. With two deployments (one 15 months, one 12) and one TCS that lasted nine months, this hasn’t always been so. Those longer separations don’t include field exercises, NTC, TDYs, and all the other times the Army took him away from home. Separation kept us from celebrating anniversaries and other milestones together in years past.

Even when we’ve been in the same place at the same time, complications can arise, like Peter’s hospitalization following a wisdom tooth extraction two years ago (for which he stayed in the hospital longer than I did with both C-sections combined, but I’m not bitter). Two duty stations on two continents and two beautiful children have blessed our marriage with innumerable adventures.

My son asked me if we were going to invite everyone and have a party for our anniversary. I didn’t know who “everyone” could be. He said, “Like at the church,” and I was speechless. Part of me wanted to explain that we don’t celebrate anniversaries the same way as birthdays, but knowing the many “whys” that would follow, and wondering the same thing myself, I just said, “I think we will probably just go out on a date.”

We tend to commemorate the big anniversaries with parties and gusto. Everything leading up to those big years gets overlooked. Some of those little years make up the glue of the big years.

My son may be onto something. This weekend, I’m going to make an anniversary cake with eight candles. We’re going to rejoice in all we have endured, both good and bad, through our years together. We’re going to pray for the years to come. Most importantly, we are going to celebrate our now.