Written December 29, 2014.
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Yesterday was my
anniversary with Michael O'Malley. We've now officially been together for
nine years. Everyone who knows us sees us as an inseparable unit. As Davey said
at our wedding, "If those two were any closer, they'd be like a fleshy
Voltron."
It's funny and
definitely true, but it's also true that we're very different from one
another--and that works perfectly for us. It might seem counterintuitive how we
can be such a great match when we have more or less no common interests.
But what we don't share in interests or hobbies, we share in values, humor, and
heart. Sometimes we disagree, but our deepest values are aligned. They always
have been, even when our worldviews were completely different than they are now.
We started off with complimentary mentalities and then our values changed
together, so we still ended up in a mutual place. Mike and I have layers upon
layers of in-jokes and can basically read each other's minds. We've seen one
another through struggles I can never imagine facing with anyone else. All of
our adventures spanning the past almost-decade have been shared.
Some of you may
already know the story of the first time the two of us met in person, after
months of talking from across the country. It was the date we didn't call a
date. I had just turned nineteen and Mike was twenty-four. He showed up at my
family's house, an Army tank-sized guy with an epic beard and a trench coat. My
mom opened the door and announced, "Ginny, Hagrid is here to take you
out!"
So I left with the
real-life Hagrid. We went laser tagging and stopped at the Bridgeport Flier,
where he made fun of me for barely eating. Then we hung out in his living room,
where I decided to find out how many people could fit onto the couch at once.
We piled ourselves, his two sisters, the dog, and two guinea pigs into a giant
heap on the sofa and it nearly fell through the floor. He had to go back to
Washington to finish school, but we talked every day for the next three months.
Then I took a plane out to see him and we drove across the country back to
Connecticut. Nine years later and we're married. We have a cozy apartment full
of Keurig cups, psychedelic drawings, and the world's snuggliest cat. But
wherever I go with him, I'm home.
Meeting Michael
was finding my home. We share a whole world between us that we not only
inhabit, but build upon each day. The greatest privilege I can imagine is to
spend the rest of my life thriving in that sacred space.
