I never dreamt that my first year would be spent in a hotel room. It wasn't much, but we didn't have much. We ate in our bedroom and washed dishes in our bathroom. I learned to shop for a dorm-sized fridge, to cook with one burner, to make pasta in our rice cooker.
There is something sacred about the simplicity of that first year of marriage.
Within these walls, we built our home-- a home not made with brick or stone, furniture or appliances, but with decisions, discussions, and dreams. We made memories. We fleshed out our vows with laughter and tears. We began learning what it means to love someone for the rest of our lives.
Perhaps that is why-- though I now live in a house with five or six times the space of that hotel suite-- I am still mesmerized by the beauty of my first home.
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:-) A memory that will last forever. My regret is that I never saw you there.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing! Your sharing is always encouraging. :)
ReplyDeleteMaria
So very moving, my dear Karen! I wish you and Luke the fulfillment of all those discussions, dreams and hours of learning love! A big virtual hug to you both from Aunt Beth!
ReplyDeleteGreat post Karen! There is such poignancy in details...
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