Last weekend, we celebrated my Grandparents’ sixty-first wedding anniversary. They met on a blind date while Grandma was at nursing school. They wrote to each other while Grandpa was stationed in Alaska, and he had to ask his commanding officer for permission to marry her. They lived in the desert for a time and then moved back to Oregon, eventually to the north Oregon coast. They built their home, raised four children. He worked bridge crew, and she was a nurse. They had an amazing garden and hunted and fished and canned and built and sewed and labored together.
We went to the column and quickly took this picture — it was cold and blowing and clear. Next week we will celebrate Grandpa’s birthday with a trip to the Crab Feed.
I’m not sure, after just rounding out of our first anniversary, how many years The Gentleman and I will have to share this life. (I do know that forty is improbable.) But we never know. We have this wonderful opportunity to share ourselves, our strengths and our weaknesses, our passions and fears, in hopes of a more comfortable and fulfilling life, in hopes of somehow impacting those around us in a resoundingly positive way, of creating a home that reflects and continues to nurture what we value and hold dear. My Grandparents set an extremely high standard of this — however, I doubt they realize that that’s the example they were giving or how important that has been to me throughout my life.