Twelve Years, Three Kids, One Way

At the time we got married twelve years ago today, A. was working as a security guard at a bank building. It continues to this day to be the job he always counts as his worst ever, but the one thing he got out of it (other than a modest paycheck to pay our rent every month, that is) was a priceless piece of advice on marriage.

It came from Clay. Clay was a black man who grew up as one of something like eleven kids in the hills of Arkansas. He played professional baseball before World War Two. He was in his eighties and still working as a security guard when A. knew him. He had been married for at least fifty years. So I think it's safe to say that this was a man with a lot of wisdom in general, and someone to listen to on the topic of a successful marriage.

What Clay told A. was this: "Ain't no your way or her way. There can only be one way."

What he meant, obviously, is that two people who choose to marry are choosing to live their lives together. And the only way to stay together over many years and even more changes is to commit to following the same path.

I don't know where Clay is now, or if he's even still alive. But he gave us a great gift that day he told A. his opinion on marriage. Because here we are, twelve years later, and still going our way.

Happy anniversary to A. I don't know where the hell this way we're on is going, but wherever it is, at least we're in it together.