The alarm clangs out its preferred noise pollution, disturbing the sweet blanket of slumber hanging in our bedroom. I’ve perfected the art of turning off the alarm while still sleeping and I do not know the hour. After an unknown number of alarms, the covers are pulled from my face as I get a good morning kiss. My eyes are still closed; this is the routine. I hear the most romantic sound as the ceramic white mug is placed on the nightstand next to me. Coffee. My eyes open to see the bedroom of white illuminated from the early morning sun. I sit up in the white bed and reach for my coffee. Robbie pokes his head out of the bathroom, knowing instinctively that I’m fighting to wake up. “Good morning love,” he coos.
As I’m sipping the blackest coffee in our white room, he prepares for the day. As I read the news, he slips on his suit and kisses me goodbye as he heads downstairs to start his day. The temptation to slide back into bed and cease consciousness looms. This place is the best place on earth. Our bed.
Routines are human nature and we oft look to create a “routine” to establish consistency and order. This routine is often quipped as the end of the “honeymoon period” and the beginning of whatever comes next. Life?
Today is our two-year wedding anniversary. I won’t pretend that we have everything figured out or that we’ve unveiled some deep, profound ideology pertaining to happily ever after. As I told a friend, at the heart of any marriage is a relationship.
This person I’ve chosen to spend my days with has never been a regret. I’ve heard of some marriages having that ah-ha moment where they realize, “what have I done?” Instead, I look at the furrowed brow of my beloved as develops strategies for Catan or the lights illuminating our patio as we share a bottle of wine and discuss the books we are reading and I know deep in my soul, I found the one my soul loves. This is our routine.
From board meetings to umpteenth trips to Home Depot for yet another project to cutthroat board games to evening drives in the summer just to get cool, it’s one day at a time with the one my soul loves. The dinner parties to the road trips to how we divide tasks to get the house clean to another tennis match in the park. One day at a time with the one my soul loves.
For being so progressive politically, he is quite traditional in one arena: he loves traditional anniversary gifts. He speaks more knowledgeably than I do for which year is for what. First year is paper. He ordered me a print of a Polish piece of art I had salivated over for months. Second year is cotton. Preferring the modern anniversary gift idea, I pre-ordered fine china for us. Sticking to his guns, Robbie analyzed our plans to finish the house and how to get me something I’d love that is also somehow comprised of cotton.
That’s when he told me about purchasing our new bed. This was a long conversation weeks prior about how he hated the blue velvet tufted wingback bed. It’s a statement piece of its own. Modern yet very 1970s gaudy. I loved it from the moment I saw it. Robbie, however, held it in for two years that he hated it. Taking this criticism as a challenge, I redesigned our bedroom and sent him options for a bed. I’ll work with what he prefers and flex my interior design muscle to design around the bed he prefers. When looking around, I found this very traditional bed with finials. Finials! This is a far cry from tufted royal blue velvet (It’s actually quite pretty despite how grotesque imagination can run with those words). I also sent more muted options with different silhouettes to him. I secretly hoped he liked the finial bed because, while it is drastically different from anything I’ve ever owned, I couldn’t help but love every detail about it.
Final decision? Finial decision. He too loved the finials and seeing that the headboard of the bed was upholstered in linen, immediately purchased it for us. Taking this cotton-inspired-cue, I invested in new luxury sheets and pillows. We set it up and I tossed the final throw pillow just to collectively dive into the bed.
While the new nightstands are en route for delivery, the centerpiece of our bedroom is a new magnificent bed that stands for more than just a place to lay our heads. This is where we tell each other, “I love you” every night before bed and lay in a warm embrace (until he gets too hot because I’m a space heater). This is where we have conversations in the dead of the night if one of us cannot sleep. This is where we greet the morning light or spend hours on the weekend drinking coffee and reading instead of preparing for work.
Stuff can be replaced but there is nothing that can compare to waking up next to my better half. One day the bed will need to be replaced. One day the sheets will no longer feel like silk and the pillows will not be as fluffy. But the routine will be the same. One day at a time with the one my soul loves. Here’s to forever and to our deuce deluxe celebration.
I love you, Robbie.