In the heart of summer lies our wedding anniversary. I remember the year of our engagement vividly. We lived in Montana. We drove down through the majestic Bitterroot Valley to a wedding-dress store in Hamilton. I was ridiculously excited, imagining. I couldn't wait. When we got there we laughed. There were garters and polyester satin and unity candles, but no paper flowers, handmade invitations, or eyelet-tied boutonieres. (I had been imagining those.) I made my dress myself, all through that year, trying it on alone in our tiny apartment while Andy was at work. I hated my job then but I had a lot of work friends who indulged me like crazy. I was the youngest in the group by far and everyone took care of me. I went to Nancy's friend's house so that she and her sewing friend could help me do the final alterations on the dress. The enormous windows looked out over a huge golden field backed by a snow-capped mountain range. I stood on a chair in the great room in the big white dress, surrounded by taxidermy, and the ladies circling, smiling at me.
Every year has been filled with more love than I've ever deserved. This one has been the best, far beyond words.
