There was a time when I was told that happiness comes in cycles of seven. The first seven years of a relationship/marriage are suppose to be the good years, and then comes the seven bad or meager years. Of course, this stems from the Bible, but you also hear people who have not been raised with religion in their lives (I have) about the seven good and the seven bad years.
I met Master T in 2002, but we only started dating seriously in September 2003. In August 2004 I moved in with him, and we have been inseparable ever since. Thirteen of the fourteen years we have lived under one roof, has been as husband and wife. Which, according to the ‘belief’ above, should mean we are now into our seven bad years.
Well, I can tell you, if this is bad, then you can give me a million years more of this. Yes, there are health problems and there are things that I would love to see differently (but essentially all of those can be fixed when the health problems are fixed, so maybe that can be viewed as the seven bad years.
I always believed that the seven bad years meant that love sort of disappears, or people get so stuck in a routine that they cannot get out of it, and when they do, they discover their love is gone.
Our life has very much settled into a routine, quite quickly from the beginning. The routine has changed over the years, like when Master T’s mom moved to a care home, and again when she passed away less than two years later. It has also changed when my mom had a burnout, when she moved closer, when she got ill and when she passed away. And of course it has also changed when Master T’s health deteriorated and he couldn’t drive home anymore, but worked from home (and still does).
We’ve been through good and bad times, but never, not once, has either of us doubted our love for one another. Our base is so incredibly strong, and I can safely say that no matter what life throws at us, we will be able to handle it, as long as we are together.
(My one big fear is that he will go before me, and I have told him on occasions that if we have to die, we should die together. I try to think of this as little as possible, and just think how he and I will grow old together, and still love each other as much as we do now, still have our silly moments, with our quirky manners.
You see, I think about my love for Master T a lot. On any normal day of the week, I can sit or stand or walk somewhere and smile as I think how much I love him. Sometimes I think of it under the shower, sometimes in bed, sometimes doing grocery shopping.
But there’s always one day a year when I think of it more than I normally do, and that day is 1 November, the day we got married.
I still love him as much (and more) as I did from only a mere two months after we first started talking to each other. I cannot imagine ever loving him less, only more.
Today is our thirteenth wedding anniversary.
Master T, I love you, and I always will.
© Rebel’s Notes