happy anniversary

This past Sunday was our 12th wedding anniversary, and we spent the day in Concord retracing our steps. We started with brunch at the Colonial Inn, where we held our wedding reception. The food was excellent as always, and we were joined briefly by Louisa May Alcott, who was wandering the dining room talking to the guests.

From there we went to Minute Man National Park where we held the actual ceremony. The day of our wedding the park was beautiful; the spring was early that year, and everything was blooming and green. Over the intervening years, the park had become overgrown and worn down. Paths were hard to find, rock walls falling down, gardens untended. When we arrived this year, we were greeted by signs telling us that the park was the recipient of government stimulus money to help rebuild it. Indeed; the park is becoming beautiful again. Gardens have been replanted, and the vegetation along the bank that had been obscuring views of the Concord River have been cut back. There is still work to do, but it is encouraging. There was even a road race, with runners sprinting downtown.

I mention the race because when we had booked the park initially, we were told that there were no other events scheduled that day. We chose the park because it was the site of one of our first dates, and for the history of it as well. When I arrived the morning of the wedding, there were runners all over the park. At least 40 of them, in bright colored shirts with numbers on them, blocking the street and parking lot. As we began to set up for the ceremony, they came jogging over to where we were to look at what we were doing. One runner, running in place, asked me what was happening. I told him about the wedding, and he smiled and said; ‘Well then…carry on!’ and ran off.

There was also a group of older local women there that day for an outing of their Painting Club. One of the women had set up her easel overlooking the patio we were using, and demanded that we move so as not to spoil her view of the river. After several moments of her fuming, and icreasing volume, I told her that ‘We’ll only be here for about an hour; the river will be here forever.’ Unmoved, she started to argue again when a park ranger and her friends came and spoke to her. She reluctantly moved on.

So much has happened in 12 years. Robbin’s daughter was 13, and my son was 8. They are both grown up now, and our daughter is married. We have a grandson, and a granddaughter on the way. You hope for the best for your kids, try to make it through the hard times and celebrate the good. There is nothing I would change about these years.