Today I’ve lived in England for thirteen years and in a few weeks we’ll have our thirteenth wedding anniversary. It seems strange that so much time could have passed, but you know what they say about having fun.
OK, it hasn’t been all fun (that first year was like falling down the rabbit hole and landing on my head), but overall it has been more than fun…it’s been a dream come true. I adore my Goblin even more than when I married him. He’s become my best friend (though if I want to talk about dead Frenchmen I have to torture someone else as he can’t bear it. His eyes roll back into his head and he goes into a coma). He’s my hero; if I’m in pain he can hold me in his arms and it really does make me feel better. I don’t think there’s been a single day in thirteen years we haven’t laughed together; even on the days we struggled to communicate ie had the odd argument. Being realistic, there must have been days I wanted to chuck a pan at his head and run away back to the States, I just can’t remember them. To be fair I can be very annoying (without even trying); there must have been days he longed to shove me onto the next plane to Chicago in the hope I’d get lost in the airport, but here we are thirteen years later still making each other laugh.
This past week and a half we’ve both been ill, fighting off a really nasty cold. True love is when you feel like death, but you make a trip down to the kitchen to get your sick Goblin a glass of water and a choc-ice because he’s burning with fever. True love is when your Goblin holds you even though you have snot all over your face because he knows it’ll make you feel better. Life isn’t always what we think it should be, but as I learn to cherish each day (I’m one of those people who expect the worst thing imaginable to happen any moment) I find it’s usually better than anything I could have made up.