Today I am thrilled to share with you a piece I wrote for (in)courage!
To read the article in its entirety, you can click here.
I have been no stranger to storybook romance. Marrying at twenty-one to an Army Officer, I am blessed to be familiar with this form of love — love as a falling and a pursuit and a passion. We were introduced for the first time on a cold March afternoon, bundled up as we stood outside in snow-covered woods with our cherry-red noses and mittened hands.
Nine months later we were engaged. We were married a year after that, with vows breathed smack-dab in the middle of his two weeks’ vacation stateside before returning to Afghanistan.
From the very beginning of our relationship and even early on into our marriage we were almost exclusively separated by physical distance due to the nature of his job. Our relationship spanned many miles those first years, based upon his duty station. There were several hundreds of dollars spent on phone cards that paid for thousands of pieced together minutes that stretched from the Midwest to the Middle East over the course of twenty-six months. There were stacks upon stacks of handwritten letters tucked into envelopes and mailed across war zones and continents and 14,000 miles of worries and dreams strung together.
It is within those cherished letters, mementos I have since arranged chronologically and tucked away meticulously in the corner of an upstairs closet, that I find confirmation that this love of ours has, without a doubt, changed over time.
It isn’t merely the friction caused when fond memories of our past collide with the weariness and the just-plain-hard that this season of life holds. No, this is something altogether different…
You can find the rest of the article here.