Second Un-Cotton Anniversary
I was going to type this all out yesterday but I just could not get in the mood with the floods Houston was again, devastated by. It's not exactly easy watching your city and the people you share its streets with suffering. So instead my husband, my dog, and I waited out the storms huddled around the television watching as Houstonians lost their cars, their homes, their animals, and their lives to high flood waters. It led to a very somber Monday.
This is not exactly how you would imagine spending your second Anniversary but for some reason, we have acquired a theme with floods. Last year, on our first anniversary, our apartment flooded and we had a 4-foot hole in our ceiling for a month. This year Houston had to be shut down entirely due to floods. While it's not a theme I'm very keen on, it's taught me that all I need is this wonderful man of mine and our sweet pup. The rest is just details.
Which leads me into yesterday. For a second anniversary, cotton is the traditional gift-giving theme. I threw up a bunch of ideas on the blog earlier this month and mentioned I had a grand plan for B. Well just like a lot of things lately, my idea just couldn't be worked out (or at least into a surprise gift). That brought me about near ripping my eyeballs out trying to come up with other ideas. You name it; sailboat rides, hot air balloons, cocktail hour at the old Cotton Restoration Building downtown. Nothing panned out and I was left stressed out! See we are the types that like to do things, we don't like stuff. (I'd much prefer a cooking class with my husband than a fancy purse.) Which is why we find traditional gift giving fun because it stretches our creativity if you can get the details to work out.
Saturday came and that's when B turned to me and said, "I've tried, Honey. I've tried my damn hardest but I can't think of anything original for a cotton gift. I'm sorry, but everything I have come up with hasn't been able to work out for X reasons. Our wedding venue even closed down and we can't get our traditional cake from there!" I roared with laughter, like the kind that makes your lungs hurt. I laughed because we were in the same boat, I laughed because he thought I would be upset, I laughed because of the ridiculous stress we both felt and I laughed because it. didn't. fucking. matter.
I love traditions and I'm very uppity about sticking to them. However in that moment when he looked at me so dearly about breaking this news, I was hit with that feeling of "This is not necessary. This does not define that sweet promise I made to this man two years ago." No amount of cotton or gifts will add or take away from the vows I swore and what they so ardently mean.
"My partner in life and my one true love.
I will trust you and honor you.
I will laugh with you and cry with you.
I will love you today, tomorrow, and forever.
As I have given you my hand to hold,
So I give you my life to keep. "
So we woke up Monday morning, and we broke our tradition of traditional gift giving. We made plans to go out to eat and that's it. As we curled up amongst our wedding quilt with our dog and the news echoed the importance of what really mattered. Our little family. The rest, the gifts, the dumb cotton, the number of years, was all just details. Silly, oh so silly, details.
Those details are not silly to some people, though. Those cotton things. As we watched those losing everything, I kind of knew what to do for our cotton anniversary. We grabbed boxes and purged. Purged the cotton shirts, un-open cotton sheets, and all the un-cotton things we had extras of. It's not a lot but to someone else it will be the details that matter. They'll be going down to the Red Cross to be distributed to those who lost everything yesterday. It's the best gift we could have given because we love our city, and we hate to see these things happen. So, I guess technically we didn't break a single tradition this year. There is a life lesson in this somewhere but I'm terrible at directions, can you point me to it in the comments? K, thanks.
When the sun did come out, we were able to get dessert out at my favorite wine bar and had a wonderful time in what little sunshine we finally got. It was an anniversary I'll never forget. We even started a new tradition to add a line to our vows every year. We will make a promise we want to keep within our marriage, whether it's cheesy or serious, but the tradition is to come up with it on our anniversary.
So on April 18, 2016:
We vow that when the sun finally shines on those dreary days we will buy the cheapest bottle of champagne on the menu and split the Italian cream cake, always.
I love you, B.