We woke this morning, the 16th anniversary of our marriage, in Buffalo, Wyo., in a cabin on the banks of Clear Creek. It was sunny and cool after two days of rain, and we drank coffee made on our Coleman stove and ate Clementine oranges along with cream cheese that we spread on crackers with a fork. We’re nearing the end of our cross-country supplies and organization after four days on the road, heading west from Maryland to Montana.
The past 16 years have been a journey of another sort, one that Michael likes to remind me I feared would not last this long. (The fear of an older woman that her younger man, getting older, would look to a younger woman.)
We married with fierce faith in each other on a sunny Saturday afternoon on the banks of another river, beginning a journey neither of us imagined would be as rich and textured and full as it has proven. With all that history, with the vows we made and continue to make, that older-woman anxiety has eased but is not yet completely gone. The key is to live as though it is.
Today, we had a second breakfast of bacon and eggs at the Main Street Diner in Buffalo. The cook behind the counter wore a T-shirt with a drawing of a bride and groom, the frowning groom shackled to a ball and chain. “Game Over,” said the caption beneath the drawing. We laughed, entering our 17th year of marriage with our game still on.
