An Anniversary (The Real One, In My Book)


Recently there was a story on NPR about why time flies, why the clock seems to move faster as we get older. The answer? Scientists think that the human brain pays less attention to established routines. So the first time you do something — drive a car, walk a dog, kiss your lover — you remember it because it’s shiny and new. The more you do it, the less you’re likely to take notice.

As much as I hate to admit it, there may be some truth to the theory. It probably explains why I often find myself driving away from the house, suddenly in a panic because I can’t remember if I locked the front door. And that means that, unfortunately, my mind is pretty normal and like most people, I take things for granted.

I try to make Jonno an exception to that rule. It’s hard, and sometimes it’s painful, but before I come in the house after a long day at work, I try to pretend that there’s no one on the other side of the door — not him, not the hounds, no one. And as corny as it sounds, I’m always just a tiny bit surprised to find all four dogs lolling about in the hallway and Jonno standing in the study, ready to do the “welcome home” dance that he often does. (One day, I’ll share secret video, I promise.)

After 14 years, you’d think we’d have gotten beyond that. But then, that’s what you get for thinking.

Happy anniversary, Jonno. I love you.

P.S. Yes, I know that technically, we were married less than a year ago, but (a) that only applies in Massachusetts, and (b) part of the agreement was that I wouldn’t have to remember a second anniversary date. April 22 it was and April 22 it remains. So there.

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