Echoes.

I’m not going to lie.
I never wanted to be married. I don’t mean I hated the idea, just never thought about it being for me – about it being something I just wanted to do. Never dreamed about what it would mean, never danced around pretending to be a bride – none of the silly things I’ve seen my sister and my daughter do.
I was convinced of two things when I was heading to the church on my wedding day. 1, that my life was about to change forever and that was scary as all hell and that 2, this was going to feel like some transformation and a giant light was going to go off inside of me and blink ‘married!’ over my head the minute the deed was done.

Okay.
Maybe not that, but I expected to feel thunder and the earth shaking – something that big surely needed a physical announcement of the change, right?
Only.
Nothing really felt different.

Oh sure, I was supposed to feel mega in love on the day of and I did. More scared beforehand. But after, I felt much love for my husband. I didn’t feel like crying, just felt like smiling.
My wedding was full of smiles and that’s the way it should be.
But I felt much the same for my husband after as I did before. I bit in awe of his awesomeness, a bit frustrated at his pigheadedness, a bit o’ lust for his attractiveness and mostly happiness at just being around him, which is something rare in a long distance relationship. Something we’ve been stuck in for 3 years.

But different? No.
At least, not right then.
I didn’t feel the need to dance in his arms all night, other than the general love of having him near.
I wanted to smile and dance and act silly with EVERYONE that I love and I did.
And that was fun.

But no, the differences had nothing to do with the wedding. I didn’t feel it then. Nor in the next few days that I got to spend with my husband (a word I LOVE using ) when we hopped around souvenir shops and lusted after each other – oh yeah, I SAID it.
But. It hit me when he had to leave to go home.
How wrong it felt.
How my level of commitment to him had changed irrevocably and how much I felt that my place was with him – in that sheer old-fashioned way that I never envisioned myself identifying with.

Simply put, my life had changed because in one moment, without me even realizing it, my priorities changed.
I became a wife.
A stand by my man, make sure his clothes are clean, support him even when he’s being ridiculously silly, lean on him during the long days, part of a duo WIFE.
I no longer felt JUST separate. I felt like myself – that still hasn’t changed, but I feel a part of him in a way that I can’t even put into words now.
We’re a team now.
And the arguments we may have HAVE to have a resolution – even if it’s simply both deciding it’s not worth fighting for and moving on to another subject.
We can’t just walk away from this.
And that changes everything.

I don’t know what is coming up for us.
We still have some mountains to climb and I’ve no doubt we’ll do it together.
But we have to try living in the same city – living in the same house… something we haven’t even pretended to try for more than 3 or 4 days at a time in the past 3 years.
And we still can’t walk away.
And while that’s scary there is a comfort in that. A solidarity that makes it easier to apologize, easier to give when I would have fought before, easier to decide that I really can compromise on things that seemed ridiculously important before.
Can I tell you how BIG that is?

So while I didn’t walk out of the church feeling as though aliens had taken over my body and my entire persona had changed, days later I can tell you that it did happen, is happening and is so darned cool and scary and awesome that every day brings a new realization of myself, my husband, my family and just where I want my life to go.

I’m loving it.