twenty-one

Round_hay_bale_at_dawn02

Twenty-one years ago, I stood waiting.

I stood waiting at the front of the church….waiting with 3 of my best friends and my father….waiting for my soon-to-be  wife….my friend.

Marrying.

And then, she was with me and we were repeating the vows we’d both memorized and the minister said, “I now pronounce….” and….we were married.

I don’t always do things “right”….but, occasionally, I do things “good”.

This was one of the best “good” things.

Somewhere, in those 21 years, we went from sitting together on top of a round bale, never talking about the future that might lay ahead, totally in the present, enjoying each other’s company….to chasing children around other bales…again, in the present….chasing.

It’s funny how much life twenty-one years can hold.

My cup runneth over.

“Twenty-one” is a good number.

I am thankful for each moment that brought us here together.

“all my life” David Wilcox

 

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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