Lucky Number Seven

Monday, Dave and I celebrated our seventh year of marriage. In typical fashion, we had a great meal and reflected on what we've done and favorite moments.

There were no gifts; there was no trip. And, I'm OK with that. Dave has been hounding me for a couple of months with: Are we going somewhere? Are we exchanging gifts? And, I've been indecisive, saying, "I really don't care. What do you want to do?" Thankfully, Dave didn't let my inability to make a decision stop him from making dinner reservations at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. I did tell him a few days before our anniversary that if we bought gifts, we could go shopping together, because--frankly--I had run out of time.

In reflecting on all of this, I'm happy. Happy that we're at a place where we know we'll be together and that we don't have to schedule time for one another. Happy that I don't need a gift as a token of Dave's love for me: I see it everyday in all of the little things that he does for me. He still opens the car door for me. He holds my hand when temperatures are cool enough to comfortably allow. He drops me close to the door when it's raining out.

On a side note, for our first anniversary, we did plan a trip to San Antonio for the weekend. Dave had a great room in a hotel on the Riverwalk booked. Three weeks prior to our anniversary, we adopted Mason. About three days prior to our trip, Mason got sick. We couldn't go off and board him while he was sick. We didn't know how long it would take him to recover, so we cancelled our plans. The day we were scheduled to leave, Mason was all better. Maybe that experience jaded us from making plans for a trip again.