Nine years. Happy Anniversary, my beloved First Reader. You had no idea what you were getting, did you? At the end of a long drive, when we walked over the threshold of a little house in OH, I was only beginning to upend your life in so many ways. 

It’s been a good time. Let’s do another nine, shall we? 

I had all my worldly goods loaded in that little white minivan behind him. Took the seats out and packed what I thought I’d need for a summer, only I never came back while the Farm was still standing. Didn’t know then I’d never see the rest of my household goods. C’est la vie… I’d already shipped half my library to his home, by selling the other half to finance it. I had no very little money, no home, and still, he took me on. 

I’d worked a festival in Massachusetts the weekend before, where this photo was taken. I was so excited about the future, and the prospect of trying to make money over the summer in OH… I had no idea life was about to change so profoundly in a matter of days. It was a painful evolution, but the end result? 

It’s good. It’s all good. We are about to move into our forever home for better or for worse. I’ve promised him: no more moves. From NH to OH to TX, it’s been a long road for nine years we have been on. We’ve made home happen all along the way, but it’s time to settle and watch the sunset from our porch. 

Nine years. Nine wonderful, chaotic, anything-but-peaceful years. Pottery and willow seem like a good metaphor for the solidity of a relationship cast and fired, finished with the quick-growing green of the willow branches. We’ve years to go, still, and yet we are grown into one. 

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