Four years a Wife 

I know, four seems like such an insignificant number in the grand scheme of things. It is certainly not as special as, say one, or well rounded as ten. It is not as nice and happy as a five or fifteen and neither is it grand as twenty five. But four it is, and that’s how things are. Yesterday we completed four years of being married and staying married to each other and like each year the focus was more on where to eat than what to do. The husband surprised me with red roses and a hot chocolate first thing in the morning and booked us a table for dinner in Kaleidoscope, a restaurant in Atlantis. Although I had a major wardrobe crises (read no clothes to wear owing to the fact that all our stuff is still not here yet) until an hour before we were due there, we managed to reach there on time for the buffet spread to open. And what a spread it was! The staff were extremely courteous, paid special attention to little Miss, supplied her with juice and chicken nuggets and fries (all of her favourites!), and even surprised us with a complimentary cake when they got to know it was our anniversary. We came back home groaning from how stuffed we felt, and so the day was quite worthwhile.  

  

Like other people have birthday blues, I think I have what I call the anniversary greys. It is a weird contemplative state of mind wherein you ponder over how things have changed over the years and alternately feel sad and happy about things you have passed by and things yet to come. I don’t know if anyone else feels the way I do but I spent a lot of time reflecting on how things have been and what I have to look forward to, and from time to time going back to how things began. To think I have known this guy for over twelve-thirteen years and loved him for almost six… To think a passing comment (made to my sister of all people) about how I would love to get a guy like him actually ended up bringing us together….! 

  
  

I always think, because of the way our relationship started we had a bigger bridge to cross than most other couples. First, there was this major issue of readjusting his image in my mind as that of my sister’s friend to my would-be husband. Then of course was the whole thing about him being in Vietnam and my being in India during our entire courtship, which meant we had never spent significant time together which in turn meant he hadn’t the faintest about what he was signing up for. I am not the easiest person to be with it (my Mother would vehemently vouch for that) and over the years if anything my bipolar tendencies have become worse. That he has put up with everything I hurl his way is testimony to this guy’s endurance and never again will you hear me admit this in public again but I admire his guts for tolerating me. Not knowing whether it is happy sunshine or gloomy clouds or angry torrents that greet you in the morning must be a pretty tough way of life but he has learned how to be okay with it. Add the fact that after we had baby girl I pretty much made her the centre of my universe with everyone else, even the husband, being cast into shadows, and what you get is not the most ideal wife one can think of, naturally. But ideal or not, I am his. And he doesn’t seem to complain about it. So I take that the last four years, if not perfect, have at least been functional. We don’t have the best of the lot, but we don’t have the worst either, and well, it’s okay. 

  

To being okay with being okay then. To four years and more… So many more.

   

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