with

Mike Bellah

I love you partly because of what you made of our kids. You sacrificed so much for them, especially when they were little.

Do you realize that you've been with me now nearly double the time you lived with your parents? 

The joy in every thing I do gets multiplied by two when I do it with you. Honey, You are my soul mate, and I love you.

Note: This column appeared first on November 28, 1998 with the following note: Thirty years ago today I married the 1967 Homecoming Queen of Claude (Texas) High School. Today's column is for her.

Has it been 30 years?

It doesn't seem that long since I told my college friends I was dating the Homecoming Queen of Claude High School. They were impressed, and I still am--impressed that you've kept your queenly beauty and charm through seven moves, three careers, and five children.

Thinking of children, can these be our little ones? Is our firstborn 28 years old? Does she really live 1,000 miles from her bedroom on Mable Drive? My favorite photo of her has the two of you playing together in pigtails when she was about three. Today she still carries your laughter in her eyes.

I love you partly because of what you made of our kids. You sacrificed so much for them, especially when they were little. They probably didn't notice, but I did. I knew you put your career on hold to be with them in those important first years. I saw you spend money on their clothes when your own were worn and out of date. I watched you give them the best of your youth.

It did make a difference, you know. Today our oldest son is such a good daddy, partly because he has your sense of sacrifice. So does our middle child who never meets a stranger and is always helping a friend in need. Our youngest daughter has your determination to see a job through (should I say stubbornness?), and our baby boy (a baby at 22?) has your tenderness and compassion. The Book of Proverbs says that a good woman's children will rise up and call her blessed, and, by their imitation of your character, your children do so every day.

Do you realize that you've been with me now nearly double the time you lived with your parents? They say that couples start looking like each other after they've been together this long. I wonder why. Is it because they share the same joys and traumas of life? Do the lines creeping into our faces tell the same stories? Are there worry lines from when 10-year-old Jeremy spent a week in the hospital with a staph infection? Are there smile lines from when Janet made the high school show choir? 

Do you remember the Derrick Motel in Trinidad, Colorado, where a dreamy-eyed and frightened young couple spent the first night of their honeymoon? Do you smile at the thought of our first home on Gable Street in Amarillo? We share so much history.

I think it's a plus of long-term marriages. We can relive memories together without having to engage in lengthy explanations of background material. It's as though we've both already read the novel so we can go right to chapter and page, where rehearsing familiar accounts summons old pleasures that can be enjoyed all over again like leftover turkey dinner.

I suppose sharing things together is the essence of a marriage, and I'm sure it's the reason I seem to love you more each year. I like a lot of things in life: good books, friends, movies, music, meals, brisk walks on crisp November mornings. Yet the joy in every thing I do gets multiplied by two when I do it with you. 

Honey, You are my soul mate, and I love you.

Happy 30th.