To Juliet on Our Twelfth Anniversary

And…here…we…are! Dodici anni. I begin where I must. You are the light that illuminates my world.

Over the last year, your sacrifices kept us on course when our dream seemed derailed, like so many others in 2020. I suppose I have more to be grateful for than at any point in my lifetime. Not only did you save our necks last year, but you also continued to help save the most vulnerable and fragile of our species, our precious children. The American birthrate has plummeted, and children are needed for our nation to continue to thrive. You are a parent’s angel of hope, and my admiration for you has swelled throughout our relationship. It is now at a point where I realize that I have indeed married far above my station in life. Selflessness assumes an understanding of a larger context. The birthrate is indicative of a nation’s self-confidence and belief in tomorrow; human selflessness is an exceptional indicator of hope.

I thought, for many years, that I was the hopeful one among us. As it turns out, I am far more fragile than I had imagined. At times during all of this madness of pandemic and work stoppage, I thought we might be doomed to a tragic financial fate. The lost sleep and missing appetite were put at rest by you and your willingness to take on an even greater load. Your dedication to others and to the cause of keeping them alive indicates your firm grasp of context. Because of your example, I began to emerge from my funk and began to chase the harmony I believed had eluded us. And I hope you will agree that I have indeed started to capitalize on these opportunities to improve. I think of Churchill and paraphrase him here, if our relationship should last for a hundred years, this, we could say, was our finest hour. I can hope with all of my romantic and manic dreams that this was our most challenging year. And, if not, perhaps we could be spared the craggy rocks of doom for a few more before we find ourselves listing once again. I want so much for us to climb from the shelter of our nightly rituals and allow for the healing of human interaction to wake us from this isolated slumber. 

So, now we go (or will have gone) on our first flight since February 2020. I am sure we are no longer the same weary wanderers that we had become before the world halting. We are quasi-enlightened seekers of experiences but using greater discretion and far fewer bags of money to have them. I know that I am grateful you are still here, and I am still so in love with you. I could never have guessed that anything could hold my interest and continue to show me new layers of life and continue to deepen our union after so many years. Now, I cannot imagine anything more permanent in our human experience than our love for one another. 

So here we are, at twelve years, we have reached that pivotal dozen. But what about the birthrate? Somehow it continues to enter into our daily talks, and our empty spaces resonate with what feels like longing. Is it just me? Should our dance card be more inclusive? I suppose that dance will keep maneuvering, as it tends to do. And I guess the following letter might (although unlikely) shed further light on the subject. I love you, Juliet!

Here we come, world!

May the dance continue and the dance floors be numerous

To Juliet on Our Tenth Anniversary

This one has taken me a while to imagine and even longer to write. I suppose we will always struggle with verbal communication as our relationship grows more profound into the unspoken and the need for words diminishes. It became clear to me while we were driving from Brownwood back to DFW a couple of weeks ago that we have indeed lived some adventures over the years. I had always believed that living an adventurous life would slow the course of time, or at least the perception that time is moving. In some ways it has. Our many travels have revealed parts of the planet that we could not have understood without traveling there and have shown us parts of ourselves that were not yet visible without the experience of travel. However, I cannot help but feel the weight of age, even at a reasonably young age, and the knowledge that we have been married for ten years.

Perhaps my greatest joy in reflecting on these 3650 days is that I long for more. And unlike at the beginning where the longing was for travel, experiences and personal success, the desire now is simply for time with you. I think many couples become accustomed to time apart from their spouses. They have girls' and boys' weekends. They travel for work often. They split tasks to manage their kids. I can certainly grasp the appeal in those particular types of marriages. But we are not in those categories. I do not intend to disparage other people's needs and choices here, but voluntary time apart is merely unappealing and unfulfilling for me. You are the muse to my madness. Your smile widens each night as the days fall away through the course of our meals and our bottles of wine. The time we have together is where ideas are born, plans are hatched, and our connection is deepened.

I realize these letters over the years are pretty one-sided. There are probably people out there that believe that I am a needy asshole and that you might benefit from some "alone time." We both know that the door is always open and that the life we have here is indeed a choice. At the same time, I do my best to ask you where your feelings are and what needs should be addressed regularly. It always seems to come back to sleep and alone together time to get you fully recharged. For me, it is, and likely always will be, being on the adventure of marriage with you. We do not have kids. We have wrestled with that since the beginning ten years ago. And we have likely at least a few more years to decide what course of action to take in that arena. For now, no pets, no property, and no obligations but love and trust in the paths we are choosing.

Ten years for us - Our 19th trip to Italy together happens in a couple of weeks. Perhaps our Italian life is our child or at least our pet. We have visited 31 countries together since 2007, and that list will likely grow again this year. We have so many possibilities on the horizon, and yet they are imbued with an edge of uncertainty. This likely more how I like it than how you would prefer it. At the same time though, every time we shut the engines down awhile we both become intolerably grumpy. I don't want to be grumpy. But perhaps we will get better. Maybe the dream is to reach the next space in life. We have had these life chapters, and they are better than fiction. The story can bog down at times, but there is always resolution, poetry, intrigue, and climax. Is there a better way to write a novel?

In conclusion, since this is now bordering on long-form prose, the ten years since we married have been the most pivotal and enlightening days of my life. I hold out hope that we will continue this journey. I dream each night that I will keep waking up with you and that our lives will only become more precious with joy while becoming more open and charitable as well. Thank you for marrying me ten years ago. Thank you for agreeing to do it over again hundreds of times since that warm day in Austin, Texas. I love you more than the sum of every part of everything I have loved before or since I met you.

Yours always,

Michael

For Juliet, On our Eighth Anniversary

Dear Juliet,

I never really thought much about the vow "In Sickness and Health" till 2017. I certainly have now. For the first time in our lives together we had to cancel travel for illness, my illness. I contracted pneumonia in January and was convalescent for all of February and half of March.I felt like a burden to you, and to myself for those six long weeks. I began to believe that I was going to remain sick, and my hopelessness began to even creep over the stability of you and me. I began to wonder if you could endure another day, another surprise doctor visit, or another night of my fever. I began to ponder my mortality, my career choices, and whether or not I was going to become invalid. I am still battling with residual effects of illness and the paranoia that it could return. I still freak out every time I cough or have a body ache. However, I have discovered that the S&H vow is one you plan to keep.

While I was in a fog of life, you worked as hard as you ever have. You kept the lights on, the food stocked and nursed me from near and far. You showed me a side of you that was so much tougher than what I had already witnessed, and although you have always been strong, this was a part of your makeup that I did not know. I am typically the guy who keeps the truck on the road and the train on the trestle. I simply could not do it for most of this year. It had to be you. It was not the easiest thing for you, and you are tired, ready to see something new. I hope this is happening. As you read this, we are likely awaiting a flight from London to Rome. The familiar FCO airport awaits, and a new Italy road trip will begin. We celebrate today with a grand tasting of pizza from one of the greatest pizza makers in Italy (which means best in the world). But this is not what this day is about, not this year.

This day, April 30, 2017, we will celebrate vows that seem almost cliche but are distinctly poignant. It is no accident that we are here at year eight. We talk to one another, assess, coach, and postulate about what we have seen, what we want to see, and who we want to become. We are not bound by age, demographics, race, religion, or place of origin when determining our goals for life.  The universe did not weave us from the same cloth as many, and we have long known this. We fit few accepted norms of behavior, and we place few (if any) limits upon ourselves for the choices we are free to make. However, all of this could come to a grinding halt if our health fails us. This illness is now part of our collective experience. We saw the Housewrighter travel and discovery engine come to a very abrupt stop. However, you know what this did for me?

This malady made me love you more than I knew I was capable of loving anything. It gave me the realization that while I took that vow eight years ago, I now know that it is real. Yes, I know I "should have known" it was true then, but let's face it, I am human, and I haven't exactly had the best luck in relationships (till I met you). I mean, if you can love me through the shitshow of early 2017, let's keep this caravan moving. We have no idea what kind of time either of us has on this earth. We don't, and that is the card we are all dealt. What we can do, and what we choose to do, is never let a day go by that we do not seek to better ourselves, ennoble our love, and tell each other I love you, and that we are not going anywhere, in sickness and health.

I heard a classic song the other day, and I sang it out loud in my car as I drove down to my photo class. I belted it out vociferously and pictured your beautiful face and sweet demeanor as I crooned. "My love, just thinking about you baby just blows my mind....all the time."

Happy Anniversary Juliet!

I love you.

Michael

To Juliet on our Seventh Anniversary

To Juliet on our Seventh Anniversary continues an important tradition for me of writing a public post to my wife, on our anniversary each year. In the case of this year, this is also the very first post on my newly minted website. Seven years ago today, after two days of rain in Austin, the sun came out, and in your white dress and lovely shoes you stood in the soft grass of Mercury Hall. As our beautiful and succinct ceremony transpired, you and your sharp heels began to sink into the still muddy earth. I had to pry you from the soil after we completed our vows, and as we danced towards the reception hall, the muck slung from your shoes onto your dress like mudflaps on a '77 Ford. This crude reference is the metaphor for what we do and how we choose to live. We bury ourselves into the mire of work and life in some place. We get to know it through a process, and most of it is enjoyable, poetic, and emotional. However, after time, we begin to bog down deeper into a social world, the dirtier parts, the softer places that hold us comfortably or routinely. We suddenly feel an insatiable urge to fly, and this is when the music starts, and one of us tugs at the arms of the other, which have begun to stretch to their limits, and we plop from the swamp of complacency to seek the rebirth of our curiosity.

Travel, perhaps the most jarring action one can voluntarily accept that can rip a person from the doldrums of everyday existence, and thrust them into a mode of survival, awareness, and unfamiliarity. With mud flying from the wheels of our rolling duffels, we gleefully jump into that Uber to our nearest airport, and we become the people we love the most, every time. In the case of our life now, I drive by San Francisco International airport once or twice a week. Each time I pass it, I glance to see the aircraft coming and going, and I immediately imagine you and me on some journey to another far-flung destination. We are rarely comfortable for the next however many days. We are often edgy, nervous, and testy throughout the transition of regular life to airplane life. We send farewell notes to our families; we shore up last moment loose ends with our daily lives, and then we put ourselves at the mercy of the universe, its people, and our instincts. And we have never regretted it. For many, our path is unconventional and perhaps inconceivable. For us, it feels something like home and a lot like love.

We have done some cool stuff since we got married seven years ago. Our upcoming trip to Italy in two weeks has become one of our longest standing traditions. There is something over there that fills us with childlike wonder and a sense of living that we carry home with us and share with our guests year round. There is also some part of us that feels perhaps a little more at home there than anywhere else we have been or lived. This trip marks nine years since we began traveling for your birthday. How many places have you seen on this day? How many meals? How many friends met around the globe? At the same time, not all of the dirt disappears from our shoes when to get on these flights. The questionnaire asks if we have been on farms. I think that goes both ways. We bring dirt each way. We do not overstay our journeys. We left Italy last September, forlorn, and wanting more. Because when we travel; we cannot let our heels slip too deeply into the soil, or we could ultimately lose the wonder of it all.

My photo career has grown at a rate I could have never expected. Seven years ago I owned a travel company and was opening a restaurant. One of those tore me apart, and the other nearly did us both in. Part of this journey was learning when to pluck one another from the monsoon-soaked earth. You are in a place where your expertise and work-ethic grants you the freedom to pull up the stilettos when your heart gets the call. You have given so much of yourself to our relationship and my career. You are fully into the richest days of your adult life, and I am honored you share them so generously, and joyously, with me. You are the brightest light in any day I live on this earth. I love the image of you here, standing on the holy grounds of the mighty Alhambra. Your fixed gaze rife with curiosity and amazement, this shot is the Juliet I get to experience when I tug you from the quagmire, and sit close to you on a train, holding your hand, and loving you more than anything on this earth.

Happy Seventh Anniversary Juliet. Hang on; I am going to give you a pull!

I love you,

Michael