In 5 months we will be married. We will be thin, and tan, and happy.  Everyone will wish us well. I am so excited to be your wife. Wife; it sounds so official.

In 5 years we will be in our thirties.  Still arguing over the best way to fold laundry.  Still laughing at the same old inside jokes that no one would ever find funny except us.  Our obsessions will turn from the cats to the kids, but we’ll find occasional late nights to watch the cats run around like wild banshees and think they are nothing compared to kids and why did we ever have kids, life was so simple?

In 5 decades we will be old and wrinkly, perhaps thin again, though never tan again.  We will argue over what we thought we heard our grandchildren say. Neither of us will be correct.  I will still use made up words and you will still know what they mean.  You will still mumble and I will still know what you mean.  We will remember when.

It will be fun and rewarding.  It won’t be without challenges and frustrations.  But we are our very best together and I can’t wait.  Etrusco.