Thirty-One Years

Joe and I are celebrating our thirty-first wedding anniversary today. Our morning started in a way that feels perfectly us—Joe headed out to help a neighbor with a tricky door lock, and I went over to Megan’s for some Oliver snuggles and smiles (the very best kind). When I got back home, Joe was getting ready to leave for work.

Before he left, he kissed me goodbye, wished me a happy anniversary, and tried to apologize for not "doing something special." I reminded him, as I often do, that he is something special—every single day. For thirty-one years, he’s been a steady, loving friend and partner. And truly, that’s more than enough.

I’d choose his daily affection and quiet acts of love over a bouquet of flowers, a fancy dinner, or a romantic getaway any day. Every now and then, Joe will look at me and say something that isn’t true: “I know I’m not romantic.” But to me, nothing is more romantic than the way he rubs my feet when they ache, helps me put lotion on my back, or pulls me close for early morning snuggles.

For thirty-one years, he’s filled our life with kisses and hugs—first thing in the morning, last thing at night, and plenty of times in between. He still holds my hand when we walk together.

And beyond all the quiet romance, Joe is an incredible listener. I can talk to him about anything. He’s got the kindest heart for people who need help—especially if it involves fixing or building something (which, of course, he’ll share what he learned from the experience with me later).

I’m grateful every single day to be married to Joe Coehlo.