The best part of 10 years of marriage? Witnessing your partner become who they were born to be.
Becca and I have known each other since we were 20 years old. With 16 years together under our belts, 10 of those as a married couple, plus three kids, two careers and through a global pandemic, the journey’s greatest reward, like binge-watching your favourite Netflix series, may be in seeing one of the main characters turn, before your eyes, into the story’s heroine.
It was either an inevitability of marriage or an unexpected (maybe totally expected?) consequence of 16-months of COVID-19 pandemic parenting but, Rebecca and I, as we hurtle towards our 10-year wedding anniversary, are starting to say the same shit at the exact same time.
It might sound like a cute little thing that happens to married couples and parents, of a certain age, but we used to pride ourselves on our individuality, on being two distinct people who chose to share our lives together, in the years when others were busy playing the field, looking for whatever’s and whoever’s next.
Each one of these moments, of our brains interconnecting, ends the same way, with us staring into each other’s eyes, smiling, laughing, wondering what the fuck is going on?
If it were true, I’d be pretty freaking lucky to gain access to a mind like hers.
Anyone who has known Rebecca as long I have or longer, understood years ago, as they do today, she is capable of anything. Edit: Out of the context of a public love letter, this could sound deeply disturbing. I mean it in the most awesome, positive way, possible.
Even at 20, I could see it in her. The potential. Not even as a life partner, necessarily, but that too. The ingredients of a great person. A strong work ethic, a commitment to doing good, meaningful work, even if it got hard, a drive to continually learn and improve. A great, loyal friend with a warm laugh and smile. A kind heart.
One of the best parts of our marriage has been witnessing (and supporting, where I can) her growth into the incredible, resilient, thoughtful, strong woman, educator, mother, friend and activist Rebecca is today.
It’s one of the many joys and delights of knowing someone since their early twenties — and marrying that person. You get to see, up close, and be a part of their journey during some transformative, beautiful and downright shitty moments. You get a front-row seat on the frontlines of someone’s life. Through setbacks and successes, through deaths and births, through career challenges and milestones. Through your own relationship’s highs and lows.
What I didn’t expect was that I would derive so much satisfaction in watching it all unfold and contributing to her journey, which is still very much an ongoing trip. For both of us.
Certainly, there are aspects of our lives, together, that are and will forever be intertwined, from our three funny, bright, beautiful, very loud children (Rory, Max and Sam) to the messy but welcoming home we’ve made over these 10 years. But despite the recent moments of “shared brain”, and shouting the same terrible Borat impression out loud, at the exact same time, our strong feelings of individuality remain.
I’m in awe of my wife, often, but maybe, especially, this year, as I have watched her show incredible, exceptional poise, leadership and resilience as an educator, through really difficult virtual conditions brought on by the pandemic. She did this while we tried to keep three kids, ages six and under, engaged at home. And she still remembered to order the little masks they like with the unicorns, rockets and smileys, respectively. She did that while staying up late completing assignments in pursuit of a PhD. She did that while being a supportive colleague, friend and partner. She did that while stepping up her game as an activist in support of more inclusive schools and a more just world.
My wife is not a saint but she is the heroine in the story of our lives together. I’ve seen her become that over 10 years of marriage.
No person is island, and we support each other as best we can, and have been and continue to be the beneficiaries of incredible support from Becca’s parents and my dad and others in our lives.
But Rebecca has shown me and anyone else lucky enough to know her that through hard work and kindness and compassion and humour, you can build a beautiful, significant life — a story worthy of a solid hours-long Netflix binge watch.
And a story where you and the heroine stare deeply into each other’s eyes and, simultaneously, say to one another in a problematic, mock-Kazakh accent: “Very nice! I like!”
Then, you share a laugh, together. So much laughter.
