An anniversary message to my wife

Happy anniversary, honey. You’ve made me the luckiest guy in the world these last 26 years.

I don’t say it often enough, but I got the best end of the deal when we exchanged vows. You’re so much more than I deserve.

We’ve enjoyed a comfortable, if not spectacular, life together. Two kids, a mortgage and memories of special times shared. It’s better than many get to experience but, I must admit, not quite the Camelot I envisioned the moment I said, “I do.”

Steve and Margie Leer then...

When I walked you down the aisle as mister and missus that first time, I was ready to conquer the world and then hand it to you on a silver platter. I thought I’d be Ward Cleaver, Jim Anderson and Mike Brady all rolled into one.

Boy, was I wrong. Reality and human foibles soon set in, and that knight on a white steed I was sure I’d become looked more like a migrant on a donkey.

What I wanted to be and do for you didn’t turn out exactly as planned, but you let me know it was all right, anyway:

I wanted to give you the moon and stars. You were content with a three-bedroom home on a tiny piece of property in the Midwest.

I wanted to climb the career ladder so you would be proud of me. You were happy to be stuck with an average guy who works an average job for average pay.

I wanted to be a hopeless romantic who swept you off your feet every day with roses, chocolates and whispered sweet nothings. You were satisfied with a daily embrace, a quick kiss at the front door and a mumbled “I love you” seconds before snoring.

I wanted to make all the right decisions so you’d never have a moment of worry. You accepted a man who often chose unwisely, even after carefully considering all the options.

I wanted to say funny things so you’d laugh whenever we were together. You smiled at a lot of poor attempts at humor.

I wanted to compliment you morning, noon and night on your inner and outer beauty. You settled for occasional praise from a well-intentioned, but forgetful, fellow.

I wanted to read you poetry and sing you love songs. You heard me go through the bills and grumble when they were too high, and understood that’s just how I am.

...and now

I wanted to whisk you to faraway places like Paris, Rome and Rio de Janeiro. You made the best of vacation budgets that usually got us only as far as Florida.

I wanted to exude confidence, bravery and strength, so you’d feel secure with me. You never wavered in your devotion to a guy who routinely battled self-doubt, fear and weakness.

I wanted to write a “they lived happily ever after” ending to our story. You were fine with bliss but more interested in commitment.

I wanted to be the ideal husband, providing you the best of everything. You recognized that no one can measure up to the ideal, and that doing my best was good enough.

In short, I wanted you to be my wife then, now and always. And you? You wanted the same thing.

Looking back on it now, that’s all I ever should have wanted. Thanks for showing me the way.

I love you.