Today’s our 42nd anniversary. Donna and I met 43 years ago, when she responded to a “carpoolers needed” notice I’d posted to the bulletin board at American River Junior College in Sacramento, California. We were freshmen, as dumb and young as they come.
We’re not freshmen any more, or young. But we still see ourselves pretty much as we were back in 1965.
Just not as skinny, but hey, we’re working on that.
The first thing I did this morning was to Google “anniversary gifts.” It seems there’s a traditional gift for each of the first 20 years, then every 5th year thereafter. I should have bought Donna a ruby on our 40th anniversary; I’m told to buy her a sapphire on our 45th. One site, About.com, helpfully makes up offers suggestions for the in-between years: 42 is the “improved real estate” anniversary! Shoot, we never dreamed we’d have real estate . . . but now we do, and I supposed it is improved. Still, it’s not a gift if you already have it, is it?
It’s not going to be a gift day, though. Neither of us want that. Instead, we’re going to do things together, then go out to dinner. We’re going to think of all the things that happened to us and between us during the last 42 years. We’re going to be thankful we still have each other and love each other.
My mother met Donna a couple of weeks after we started carpooling. She liked Donna right off the bat . . . really liked her. She must have known something.