So today is the 26th anniversary of the day that Paul and I stood up in the little white church here in our village before our friends and family and promised each other 'til death do us part.

Have I mentioned lately that the man is depressingly healthy?

He's not showing any signs at all of dying.

What have I got myself into here?

I keep rummaging through the paperwork looking for that "time off for good behaviour" clause and darn it, I can't find it.

Uh oh

I wish that I could tell you that it's been smooth sailing all the way, two hearts that beat as one, Romeo and Juliet played out in a little log cabin off in the woods of Quebec.

But it hasn't.

There are been times of anger, boredom, and loneliness. I know there will be more of these in our future. Almost all long marriages wax and wane, almost all couples have to skate through patches of rough ice.

In 1982 things got so bad between us we were talking about divorce. I think if we hadn't had a child to consider, we would have thrown in the towel and not looked back. But we decided to make one last effort, got marriage counselling and turned it around.

Sometimes you gut things out.

Romantic, huh?

The hard, hot "I want to sink my teeth into your ass and drag you off to my cave" love we felt for each other in our teens is gone now, replaced by something I hope is far more permanent. We've seen each other at our best. We've seen each other at our worst. Most importantly we SEE each other as we truly are,

And accept that.

And we still love each other.

And we still have things to say to each other.

And we still make each other laugh.

But it has not been easy or simple.

This morning I woke up beside the man who promised me forever 26 years ago. We both had ferocious cases of bed head. Neither of us flinched.

If THAT'S not love, then I don't know what is.