Anniversaries

Very many years ago today, I married a pretty girl from the suburbs, and we became a couple. For reasons that aren’t easy to explain, we waited forever to start a family. That’s why the double anniversaries seem like yesterday. Because, in a way, they were. If we had picked another month to get married in, it’d be different. We found otherwise on our seventeenth anniversary. That was Clare’s freshman year in high school. She made varsity and had three RBIs in her first-ever game as a Mustang. The day started sunny, ended cloudy. Typical March. According to my notes, the next time Clare played on our anniversary was senior year; she homered. A year later, we were in Florida, where she hit her first homerun in college. All the other times our anniversary happened in the Sunshine State, we were treated to a combination of hits, runs and RBIs. I have it all here in my notes. The last time was just eight years ago, almost yesterday. I hope baby Leo will see his mom at the batting cages before too long, and, when he gets old enough, I’ll tell him all about Grandma and Grandpa’s wedding anniversaries. The things his mom did for us.