Two years ago I met you outside the community center and you saw the “simple” (my word) dress I’d picked; you joked about me wearing a veil (because you’d thought I wouldn’t); my feet froze while we took tons of pictures outside before it all started; and it was the best day ever.

Who would have thought that a barely-friendship would have turned into a maybe-crush, into a “not really but then it was” first date, into college boyfriend/girlfriend, into beyond-college relationship, into a 6-years-in engagement, into a 7 years and 1 day later: marriage.  And now, 7 years of dating + 2 years of marriage later, here we are: 9 years in.  And man, a lot has happened over these 9 years.  The usual things we use to measure time: schools, graduations, jobs, moves, apartments, pets…  All of it.  But also the things we don’t: the good times, the bad times, the learning curves… I’ve loved you through it all.  The one thing I know for sure, through all the ups, downs, trials and triumphs that come with growing up together over 9 years, is this: I’m crazy about you.  It’s the kind of doesn’t-make-sense, hopelessly-idiotic type of love.  The kind where you look back later on and wonder “why?” about things, but then the response is always, “because I loved you and I love you, and there’s no way around that.”

A 9-year relationship that spans the entirety of your twenties isn’t easy.  There’s a reason that college relationships don’t usually last.  People change.  People grow.  A lot.  You discover who you are in your twenties.  You work a lot of things out.  But in that process there are a lot of growing pains.  A lot of stupid decisions.  A lot of selfishness.  But somehow through all the change and frustration and uncertainty of our twenties, we held onto each other.  And I guess we’re realizing that that’s what love really is.  Or, what our love is.  It’s there, holding on, putting the effort in, even when it’s hard.  Even when you’re sort of half-crazy and don’t fully know why — but you still hold on.  When you won’t talk about how you’re feeling.  When I won’t open up about why I’m mad.  When we’re both pissed about the stupidest and most insignificant thing.

We both went into marriage feeling confident: “We’ve got this.  We’ve been together 7 years already.  Nothing is really going to change.”  But things change, because they have to.  And the first year was not the honeymoon either of us was expecting.  We were bringing old habits into a new frontier — they didn’t fit.  They didn’t work.  We were at odds with one another.  But we held on.  And slowly, with a lot of work (a lot), a lot of communication (a lot, a lot), and some hand-holding by people who know better, we learned.  I learned how to make you my family.  You learned how to tell me how you felt.  I learned to get mad (really mad!)  You learned how to not get mad at my being mad (ha).  I learned how to put you first.  We learned how to be a team.

And it wasn’t easy.  Marriage isn’t easy.  It’s not supposed to be.  Not to say that it should be a struggle, but a marriage doesn’t just happen around you, or to you.  We learned that we had to create the marriage we wanted.  We had to build it, and we had to maintain it.  And we did.  And we work at it everyday.

And you know what?  It’s the best kind of work there is, and there’s no one I’d rather be doing it with.

Happy Anniversary, KC.  I’m head-over-heels, ridiculously happy, stupid in love with you.  Here’s to 2 years, and 200 more.

Love, Chelsea