When I lived in upstate New York as a kid we went skiing once and while we were in the lodge my family overheard a woman exclaim "I'm comin' he-ah [here] SEVEN YE-AHS [years] I nev-ah seen it so icy!" and it's been a family catchphrase ever since. Yesterday was Ryan's and my seventh anniversary and all day we said to each other "SEVEN YE-AHS!"
It seems like more than seven years since we were newlyweds, waking up at nine every day, patting ourselves in the back if we managed to get to school before ten o'clock, living in an orange stucco house we affectionately dubbed "The Alamo", learning to "cook", doing yard work and going to Sonic every day in the summer.
Today I'm sitting at the kitchen table, holding a sleeping James in one arm while the big boys watch Curious George, trying to squeeze my lecture into the calmer cracks of the day. I'm in my PJs, Ryan's off at his corporate nine to five, there's a big gold minivan in my garage, and instead of Texas Country and Van Morrison, Mozart and Kanye, the not-so-soft whir and thump of our aging washing machine provides the soundtrack for the day.
In seven years your skin completely replaces itself and it takes seven years for a bankruptcy to be removed from a credit report. In other words, it takes seven years for all traces of a past, different life to disappear. Individual Ryan and individual Becca have completely disappeared and been replaced with something more complicated--a family of FIVE PEOPLE--big enough to frustrate the efforts of the suburban chain restaurant industry with their dining rooms full of four-person tables.
Happy Anniversary, Ryan. There's no one else I'd rather share this car with:
[no infants were neglected during the filming of this video.]