Evan and I celebrated four years of marriage last week. It feels like more to me, but only in the best way. Only in the familiar—family—it-feels-like-we’ve-been-through-decades-of-life-together way. On Wednesday, August 14th (our actual wedding anniversary), The Rolling Stones were playing in Seattle. My incredible cousin took this event and made it a family affair by getting premier tickets for his parents (my aunt and uncle), my parents (who flew in from Texas), and Evan and myself.
In what is becoming an every-other-anniversary tradition, I wore my wedding dress. Evan wore some snazzy new pants he got for the fourth anniversary (the flower and fruit anniversary, btw) from me. And we galavanted around the hotel, the Ben Paris, and downtown Seattle before the show. Living our best rockstar-esque lives.
Getting to the concert was surreal. My mom wore her Stones concert shirt she got in ’81.
And then Evan and I were on the floor for the show, which was just amazing. Damn, those guys can rock hard.
Evan and I sang along loud. Holding each other hard and dancing in circles. And then I feel like I did a super stereotypical thing. I cried. I cried during “You Can’t Always Get What you Want.” It just kind of hit me—the way music does.
It hasn’t been the easiest year of our marriage. We did not always get what we wanted. And I’m not convinced we got what we needed, but it was good to hear. Earlier this year, I had a miscarriage. And while it was almost impossible to talk to most people about at the time, it became an incredibly easy story to tell. I told this story for KEXP’s Sound & Vision last week. You can listen to it here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/kexps-sound-vision/id1471036386?i=1000446791197
I sang along, through tears, to The Rolling Stones. Trusting that my story—our story—is one that ends with the universe knowing what we need. Trusting that dancing is the right way forward and that love is the right way upward. Love. And Dancing.
[love and dancing.]