We don’t leave each other little love notes, or petals up the stairs to the bedroom.
We don’t stay up all night talking about our dreams like we used to, when morning came too soon and the sunrise was unwelcome.
We don’t stroll mindlessly, hand in hand anymore, not caring who or what exists around us, too intoxicated by each other to see the world.

We do step up when life brings one of us down though.
We are there for the good and the bad.
We support each other’s dreams, pointing out the possible flaws in the plan, willing each other to succeed.

We don’t date anymore, we are told that we should.
We don’t buy elaborate anniversary gifts like we feel we ought to.
We don’t always fix the argument before going to sleep, I hear that is a big no-no.

But we do share a vision of our beautiful new home – our money goes in that pot instead.
We do eat out with our kids whenever we get a chance – and pass down our love of food, that’s important to us.
We do see a new day as a chance for a fresh start and to forget what went wrong the day before.

We don’t do romance very well, we both kind of fail there.
We rarely surprise each other with a thoughtful gift or a trip.
We definitely don’t kiss enough.

But we do catch each other’s eye across a room every now and again – so much is said in that one look, I couldn’t fit it in one page.
We do love our children and each other with a fierceness that built our castle. The walls are strong.
We do little things that make each other’s day a tiny bit better.


Practical stuff, boring stuff. Not worth writing down really.


My marriage isn’t perfect.

But then neither am I, neither is he, so why would it be?

My marriage is real.





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