Seven years ago, I was a very young bride anxiously anticipating my wedding, which was less than a week away. I was finishing up final exams, moving my stuff into the little house my fiance and I had just bought, and remaining blissfully ignorant of how many final wedding details I probably should have paid attention to but didn’t.
I was twenty years old and in love, full of optimism about the future I’d be spending with my first (and only) great love.
Oh man, the present (which was the future back then) is even more awesome than I’d hoped.
So now I’m tasked with finding a gift for my beloved to celebrate our seventh anniversary. The traditional seventh anniversary gift is wool or copper. Because nothing says “I love you and I’ve really enjoyed seven years of marriage with you” like a scratchy sweater or piece of plumbing pipe.
Maybe I’ll fashion some kind of freakish sculpture using copper wire and bits of wool fluff. I’ll tell him I worked really hard on it and that it represents the enduring love I feel for him, and see what he does. If he tells me he loves me, I’ll smile. If he tells me he loves his gift, I’ll cackle merrily. Either way, fun times ahead.
Seven whole years. Huh. That’s pretty cool. We’ve crammed a whole lot of good stuff into the last seven years. Can’t wait to see what the next seven look like!
With any luck, there will be more freakish sculptures, puckish giggles, and pointless arguments.