Yesterday was my parent’s 35th wedding anniversary.

Thirty-five years ago, she was the nervous bride getting into her gown that her dad paid for. He was the anxious groom whose friends joking held him from running {we have photo proof!}. She smiled at him as her dad lifted her veil. He smiled back, thanking his lucky stars. The said their vows, exchanged their rings and sealed it all with a kiss. They celebrated with friends and family in the fellowship hall. They whipped doughnuts and did burn outs on the new city bridge {wonder where we all got that from}. They partied by the lake with the closest of friends. They honeymooned in Duluth. They began their life together.

Soon-ish after, my parents purchased their first home together. Rather, they purchased an overgrown country lot complete with abandoned outbuildings and a nearly-forgotten homestead with the selling point being that it boasted a perfect driveway. Over the years, they worked to sculpt a home: cleaning out and creating new sheds for the trucking company, remodeling the house then building new, planting trees, taming the yard and eventually adding two natural-sourced ponds and some beautiful landscaping. After 35 years, three kids, a scattering of horses and other farm animals, a handful of family dogs, the beginning and continuation of the trucking company and now five grand-kids, the property has grown to be a respite for not only my parents, but for us adult kids and our families. Out of a dilapidated plot of land and an excellent driveway, they created a rural oasis.

We celebrated on Sunday with a relaxed bbq on our patio. The sun smiled down upon us as we chatted about the current goings on. The little kids ran and shrieked about as my parents pulled them up our zip-line or caught them on the way down. At one point I sat back, smiling, watching and just thought to myself how much had to happen in these years to make this day come about. Gavinn played in the fairy garden, Mia and Jax helped collect sticks for the fire, Savannah happily ate dirt and rocks while teetering after the bigger kids. All of them, at one time or another, clamored to sit on Grrma or Papa’s lap to feel the warmth that only a campfire and a grandparent can give.

I can very honestly say that I look up to the love my parents have for each other and, born of that love, for each of us. Heaven knows how us kids have tested it, the troubles they’ve grown through together and the rough patches that every couple seem to face at some point in time. And yet, they are still each others. He continues to make her smile. She continues to make him laugh.

It certainly is something to aspire to.

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