John, looking quite dignified in the John Muir Vest
Sometimes you just get lucky.
When asked how I've managed to be married for 27 years and still totally enjoy the company of my husband, that's my answer.
I also tell people that John is lucky to have found me. They are often startled by such a declaration of strong self-esteem. I go on to say that I am lucky to have found him.
In my opinion, a strong marriage is based on two people who can believe both these things.
John and I met when we were in our 30s. Neither of us was desperate to be married--and both of us were very very happy to meet another person who made us feel understood.
We were married in Friday Harbor, in the San Juan Islands of Washington state, in 1987. We had decided on a Sunday to get married on Thursday by the justice of the peace there. Two friends accompanied us on the ferry ride--they had packed a picnic basket with sparkling cider, champagne glasses, and an antique cloth; coworkers had sent along a tiny wedding cake. It was the opposite of an elaborate wedding, and we've never regretted our sweet little ceremony for one minute.
John in 1989 with baby Gingko
I was back in Friday Harbor earlier this month. As I waited for the ferry in Anacortes I thought about the changes 27 years has brought, and I'm grateful that I said yes.