I was talking to a friend a few days ago who was very impressed with a couple we know because they were still together and still working on their marriage after TEN years. I think I audibly scoffed. In fact, I said something like, “They’re still on their honeymoon. Come talk to me in another couple decades, cuz hubby and I have been working on our marriage for…”
As I was saying the words I realized hubby and I had both missed our thirty wedding anniversary. I mean, we knew we had one coming, and we had plans to celebrate later in the month, but we had literally missed the actual day. How sad is that?
Truth is, we really do try to make each other happy, but it’s not like those early days. Remember those first few years? I was just a littttttle bit more romantic back then. And a lotttt more demonstrative. I remember a time on a plane when…well…never mind. And a time on a train when… Huh, that one’s not good for retelling either. But there was one incident I can relay. Shortly after our first baby was born, I planned a weekend away, found a babysitter, packed our bags and dragged him off on a surprise mini holiday. There was another instance when I had to attend an evening church function without him. Just to make sure he was still paying attention I wore a negligee under my outer clothing, then when I got home I stripped off my street clothes in the garage and sashayed into the kitchen as if I had gone to church that way. I’ll never forget the look on his face. There were also times when I would prepare and freeze meals ahead of time when I had to leave home for a few days. Sometimes I’d even have a neighbor drop by and pop them into the oven so he’d have a hot meal when he got done with work. I gotta tell you…those days are long gone. If he gets a hot meal when I’m HOME it’s party time.
Anyway, it occurred to me that marriage is a bit like writing novels. And here’s how: you see, my latest book has just been released, but it’s long past the honeymoon stage. It’s not my first or my third or even my thirteenth book. It’s my twenty-eighth, and instead of the fanfare and parties and hoopla that used to accompany such an auspicious occasion, I’m afraid it barely warrants a hot meal. Even though it does have an awesome cover and a pretty good story if I do say so myself.
So, in an effort to make my 28th feel special I’m giving away a copy of An Accidental Seduction to one commenter who has some sort of advice on how to keep relationships alive and happy. Or even a story about how their own relationships have changed over the years.
And thanks to everyone who has given me the opportunity to celebration 28 happy books.