At Nine

Its nine years.

Nine years now since we tied the knot. Nine years since we said our vows.
“Through better or worse, till death do us part…”
I look back. I recall. I review. I encapsulate.

From our mid twenties to now, our mid thirties. We’ve learnt, we’ve grown – together.

At the wedding, I knew him, and yet I did not. I thought I understood him, and yet I did not.
At nine, we understand. We accept and live with each other’s quirks, weirdness, excesses and faults.

At the wedding, we were new friends.
At nine, we are still friends, but like a pair of old socks, there is comfort, there is warmth albeit that the fabric of our friendship is worn and there are many patches and darns that are visible.


At the wedding, his family was new to me. They were strangers.
At nine, I love them like my own. They are the bright and shining silver lining in my marriage.


At the wedding we knew one day we wanted kids.
At nine, we have a child and she is the light of our lives, the center of our being.

At the wedding, I’d hoped he’d make a good father.
At nine, I see he is. Infact he makes the better parent than I!

At the wedding, I clung to him believing that is how a “man and woman become one”.
At nine, I have learnt that being together must also include being apart.

At the wedding, I thought I loved him.
At nine I know I love him – inspite of the many ways he is different from me, inspite of the many things that irritate me about him, and inspite of me.