There's a lovely cliche about marrying your best friend. I'm sure when people repeat the old beautiful trope, they really feel the truth of it deep in their hearts. My full disclosure is this: ten years ago, I didn't marry my best friend. Actually, I married a boy who was pretty close to a stranger. I knew just enough to feel pretty confident that it would work out. I listened to a voice inside that said it'd be a good thing to tie my life to his and so I jumped. And I hoped with all my heart that we'd grow into the big empty space we were jumping into.
Honestly, it was a rough start. The actual day we got married was packed full. I felt nervous, so tired, and sad to exclude my family from what should have been a joyful ceremony. The memories of that day are vague and pervaded with melancholy. Even the pictures of that bride, show the old me flashing her smiling facade, a veneer of cheerfulness. Those eyes look lost.
The next year, I kept wondering where I left myself. It wasn't all sadness and gloom, in fact we made many fun and happy memories but when the quiet settled or I found myself alone and examining, all the poking and prodding could not make the girl I knew emerge. I thought I lost myself. Or that maybe I never had myself to begin with. I was only twenty, after all.
It took me awhile to realize that I simply wasn't done developing, nor would I ever be and that had nothing to do with when I did or didn't get married. In fact, it became a beautiful opportunity to experience the growth and changes in myself and in my world bound to someone who would experience those things with me. We embarked on this journey as near strangers and have grown so close my heart almost bursts when I think of him. We've filled that empty space with these beautiful things:
trust
joy
gentleness
laughter
kindness
thankfulness
patience
And what I hoped would happen, did. He became my very best friend.
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