A year in the life

One year and one day ago, Torsten and I were waking up in the same apartment, surrounded by boxes containing all of his possessions, in a bedroom that we have now shared for a year. Also in the room with us was the couch from his old apartment, a couch that remains in the bedroom and will, as far as I can see, remain there forever, because I don't think it's possible to get it out again.

One year and two days ago, we were hauling all of those boxes, and that couch, and that bed, across town in a borrowed pickup truck, a truck that we had foolishly assumed could transport all of Torsten's belongings in two or three quick trips. We were leaving the couch on the lawn of my building so that we could run back and grab the rest of Torsten's stuff before his building's freight elevator closed for the evening, and returning to find bird poo on it, bird poo that luckily washed right out.

We were knocking on our neighbor's door for help hauling the couch. We were removing the door of our hall closet and inadvertently chipping the paint off our doorframe attempting to maneuver the couch into the bedroom. We were rearranging the living room to accommodate his projector. We were ordering Chinese food at ten o'clock at night because we hadn't had time to eat dinner before then. It was the last meal that I would eat before starting Weight Watchers, so I made it a greasy one.

One year and one day ago, I was sending Torsten flowers with a card telling him how glad I was that we were sharing our lives. I was cooking my first Weight Watchers meal, one of the worst we have ever had, linguini with canned clams. He was supportively claiming that he liked it despite the clear evidence to the contrary on his plate. He forced down his whole serving. Luckily, my cooking skills have improved since then. As has my recipe selection.

Torsten was unpacking boxes as quickly as he could because he knew their presence drove me crazy. I was rearranging shelves to make space for all his books. We were switching mattresses because we had discovered that one was of much higher quality than the other. We were finding room for his ceramic goat among my purple vases. It turned out that they meshed surprisingly well.

We were waiting for the squabbling, the growing pains, the struggles that we were told every couple faces when they first move in together. We were waiting to step on each other's toes, feel crowded, need our space. We were waiting to feel slightly less close, struggle to fit our stuff together, struggle to fit our lives together.

But it didn't happen. Our lives fit together so neatly, so easily that almost immediately, it was as though we had never lived apart. We are lucky that our lifestyle preferences are so similar, that we didn't have that struggling adjustment period, that we dovetail so simply.

If we had had those struggles, we'd have made it through. One year and one day ago today, we already knew that we wanted to spend our lives together. We were prepared to fight to make that happen, to compromise if need be, to accommodate, to sacrifice. So far, we haven't had to. But we are both still ready to, if that time comes. Perhaps it never will. Perhaps it will always be this easy, this straightforward. But even if it isn't, it will always be worth it.

Last night I watched my future husband leap off the couch in excitement when the German soccer team eliminated Portugal from the European Cup. I listened to him enthuse about his new MP3 player, and say how he wishes that I would buy the same one for myself, because he is convinced that I would love it more than I love my iPod, and he wants only the best for me. I felt him stroke my shoulders automatically because he knows, his fingers know, that I always love a back rub. I saw him smile as he told me how he has learned to nudge me in the middle of the night so that I will roll over to cuddle without waking up.

Our first year of a shared life together was peaceful, simple, and untouched by any major clash or difficulty. We have supported each other through family problems, work stresses, life changes. But everything between us has remained smooth. I hope that it will always be so. I am almost scared to be so happy, because I am afraid that something will come along to spoil that happiness, that it is dangerous to be so completely content. But I know that we will always get through it, no matter what "it" might be. We will always work through it, because it will always be worth it.

I am so lucky.