27 Years

“Twenty-seven years is far too short a time to spend with such an admirable woman.”

When I wrote these words on the card accompanying a dozen medium-stem roses, I knew she would have no idea that the phrase was lifted nearly word for word from Bilbo Baggins’s birthday speech from “Lord of the Rings.” But I was under the gun; it was my anniversary and, as usual, I had not made any definite arrangements beforehand to celebrate our 27 years together. I stopped at the florists on the way home from work so as not to be totally empty-handed and on the spur of the moment, decided to include a small card with the roses. The phrase was the first thing to pop into my head. It’s hard to be original when you are in a hurry, so I went with it.

And yet, now that I have had time to reflect a bit, I can’t think of anything more appropriate. Although the famous old hobbit uttered his original speech just before leaving his home to go live with the elves, I plan to stay on with my admirable woman for at least 27 more years and much longer if I can. I need no elves for enchantment. I still find it in her eyes.

It was her eyes, in fact, that first attracted me and eventually entrapped my heart. I am completely bound by other means now, but her eyes still convince me that in submitting to such bonds I find the greatest freedom. During a family quiz game last week, I was asked what title I would give a song about someone I love. My answer was “Pools of Blue.” I didn’t fool anyone.

Twenty-seven years is a milestone of sorts. It marks the point at which she has been with me longer than she was ever without me. And though certainly there have been times when she would have liked to have strangled me, I have always been confident of her love and her desire for me to remain. She has no idea what great comfort that is, nor what exhilarating joy it brings. I should tell her, but how can one express such monumental feelings without causing her to worry that something is wrong? Nothing is wrong, but worry she will. And I do not wish to add to her burden.

Instead I keep still, watching in wonder at her constant movement to reach out and help, feed, console, or nurture those around her. Though her eyes entrance me, her greatest beauty is in that divine motion to serve the needs of others. In her case, it is a beauty rarely hidden.

It was this beauty that first brought us together. Her roommate was directing a play and needed more “chorus line” players, so she volunteered to help. I went to audition for a part and was disappointed to learn that all the named roles were already filled and they only needed extras. I was cast as a lowly “knight” and she was my “lady in waiting.” She had been waiting a good quarter century. It became my favorite role ever.

I had always fantasized about meeting my mate “on stage,” but had no interest in some flighty prima donna. She was too emotionally honest and grounded to be an actress, however, and when we were first introduced, my mind and heart were prompted with the words, “She could be the one” as clear as if spoken aloud. I have trusted such promptings ever since.

For more than two decades she has stayed at home and raised three exceptional children while I was off at work trying to become a better provider. She had worked for 16 years before the first child came along. She used to have money, a fancy sports car, and traveled wherever and whenever she wanted to go. But she traded it all in for a struggling writer who drove an old AMC Pacer and held his Sunday shoes together with electrical tape. There must have been other times during the past 27 years when she wondered if, financially, she made the right choice. But if so, her doubts have been fleeting, for her commitment to me has always been as Gibralter.

The kids are older now and growing in their independence, so she has started working again. Not so much for the money, though every little bit helps. But for the company of other good women and the chance to make a difference in the lives of struggling school children. “The lights went on for Sally today,” she’ll say, and her eyes will dance in triumph. And I fall all over again.

Yeah. Twenty-seven years is too short a time to spend with such a goddess. Happy Anniversary, Laura.