October 14th

I was excited, and I'll admit I let myself be a little giddy. I had a reason to pull out my old cookbooks and I had been over the stove for hours making his favorite. Chicken Alfredo with garlic bread, some roasted mushrooms, a fresh salad, and a bottle of white wine. I pulled the peach pie out of the oven and shook a dash of sugar on top for some pizzazz. I put it on the counter to cool and rushed upstairs to shower and do my makeup and put on a nice dress. He would come home at 7 most nights so I had to hurry. I looked in the mirror at the wrinkles that were forming along my face and sighed as I did what I could with some foundation and mascara. I have to admit, I don't look half bad when I try. Lately, especially then, it's just so hard to get myself up and going, but for him I'd do anything.

I was adorned in many pretty things. I wanted to feel special. I squeezed myself gently into a nice bra and some pantyhose. I draped myself in the shin length dress with rhinestones that reminded me of when I was younger. I wore a bracelet filled with colorful jewels, a necklace made of silver, my wedding ring of course, and some sweet perfume that smelled of lilacs and vanilla. The finishing touch to my outfit was a pair of white gold earrings he got me for my birthday a few years ago. I did a small twirl in the mirror and watch my navy blue skirt spin and smile. I looked just as I did when we first met when I was 23 and he was 26, just a little older.

I went back downstairs and start to set the table. It was very rich, dark oak and the most solid piece of wood ever crafted. It seemed symbolic almost, but he would tell me that I was looking for reasons to find meaning in common things. Maybe I was. But he was my favorite common thing and I found much meaning in him. The kids were out so we had the whole house to ourselves. I set out the good china dishes, and even used the hand woven place mats we found in Italy on our honeymoon. I knew he would appreciate it. After filling our glasses with wine, I light two tall candles that surround a blue vase of orchids.

The clock read 6:54, he would be in at any moment now. Thank goodness I rushed myself, I knew he'd have gotten off and been tired. Goodness knows I wouldn't let him skip out on that night though. Tonight was very special and I know he would want to just eat and go to bed after a long day at work. Most nights I would let him, but it was our anniversary. October 14th. We'd dated for just seven months before he proposed to me. His mother was furious with him for using his grandmother's ring, but his grandmother had given it to him just for me. It was as beautiful on our wedding day as it was that day of our anniversary. I knew he'd want to go for a walk if only he didn't get off so late.

I fidgeted in my seat and flipped through a magazine and read about the latest drama about those social media stars that I really have no interest in. It keeps my mind busy though and stops me from pacing. He would hate when I paced, he said I shouldn't fret over silly things. I let myself breathe, why was I even tempted to let myself fret? It's not like it would change anything. Then again, it's not like allowing myself to worry would make things worse.

Nothing could be worse than that night. Nothing. Still though, I couldn't just do nothing. I still loved him, after all. I still love him now, even. I think I always will, no matter what.

I eventually read the magazine from cover to cover and checked the time. 7:37. The food was cold now and the wine was getting warm. Oh well. I halfheartedly ate my plateful, and even though the dishes were clean, I put his in the dishwasher. It made me feel better to wash two people's worth of things for some reason. I didn't even touch the pie. I covered it and put it in the fridge. What was the point. I didn't even remember to get the cinnamon ice cream he loved. I knew my kids would be back to see me tomorrow, they would enjoy it more than I would.

I was glad I'd brought my pajamas downstairs to change into earlier. The soft baby blue fabric clung to me like a comforting hug. I didn't even bother to put my dress in the laundry, I'd do it tomorrow. I was just tired. I was thankful for the recliner he'd begged me to let us get all those years ago, now. I needed to put my feet up and watch some trash TV to stop myself from crying. The big plaid blanket warmed me even more and the introductory song for some sitcom played. The notes in it reminded me of a song he used to play on the piano and suddenly I couldn't stop myself.

I let the tears flow freely as I cried for him. No one should have to spend their anniversary by themselves.

I looked at the mantle above the fireplace at the photos of us and our family. It was a picture of us from two years ago, another of our kids when they were young, a large family photo, a series of each of them with their own spouses and children, and the picture we used of him at the funeral last year.

"Happy 50th, my love." I whispered to myself as I fell asleep looking at our yellowed, round framed wedding photo.