Our wedding started as a joke. Not the idea to be married. But the wedding itself.
“What if we got married at Christmas?”
And it worked out that way. Well, really, it worked out a couple days before. In some ways, the joke is on us. We commonly spend the day traveling. Or it is mushed up in the flurry of the holidays, and multiple other forth quarter family celebrations.
Here we are last year, opening our Christmaversary gifts:
A few days ago we remembered we forgot to plan something for today.
But because of its placement, today always feels special. The solstice has passed. It’s The Swedelock’s first day of vacation. There are plenty of cookies around. We have our first-ever tree bedecked because we will be home for Christmas. I’m cozy in my kerchief. And he in his sweatpants.
Kerchiefs and sweatpants sounds like an anniversary joke. I assure you, because we are together, it’s seriously special.
Isn’t your Christmaversary tomorrow? Well, happy special day no matter when. Love you both.
Sent from my iPhone
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Ya, I had a scheduling mishap with the blog, apparently.
I’m just impressed you remember the actual day. I picked ours because of *biblical* numerology (the only sort of Christian thing in our wedding) and can’t ever remember if it’s the 27th or 28th.
Like. I’ve never ever remembered. Thankfully, he always does. I forgot where I was going with this, so I’ll stop here.
Signed, The Word Rambler