One Year Out: Losin' It

One year ago today, I pledged my troth to David.

I thought I knew what I was doing. After all, we loved each other and wanted to make a life together. We figured we knew what we were getting into.

Since then, I have lost a pair and a half of shoes.

And that's just the beginning of the list. We won't talk about the books the library seems to think they never received (though I watched myself put them in the slot, and David is my witness). Receipts? Movies? My sapphire earrings? They could be anywhere.

Once there was a time when I didn't lose track of the stuff that cluttered my life. I knew where things were. From time to time, they got up and shuffled around — just to mess with me — but only from time to time.

Then I got married.

Now, there's no telling where things will wind up on any given day.

I know there's a poltergeist in the house, and he's become much more active since the wedding. I think he follows us around. After all, I hunted all over the hotel room for that pair of my favorite brown sandals, and I assure you I didn't leave them on the New York subway. That I would have noticed.

The poltergeist has a sense of humor and lets me find things occasionally. Just yesterday, I found where I — er, the poltergeist put my favorite blue umbrella, missing for the rainiest week of the year.

I haven't, however, completely lost my sense of humor, evident from my reaction as David tosses yet another comedic comment into our conversations. His puns and observations are interesting, surprising and really rather funny. Plus, he can tell a great story.

I'm not writing that just because he'll probably read this. I really do think he's a hoot. I find even his less "successful" attempts charming. He's got a quick mind that goes some interesting places, and I'm glad to be in the front seat for those trips.

Every once in a while I have to throw in an eye-roll just so he doesn't get too heady with his success. (If he knew how funny I think he is, he might very well be insufferable.) However, I can say without a doubt he still makes this cynic laugh, often at familiar jokes — and once nearly literally busting a gut. (Here's an important tip for your comedians out there: warn a surgical patient if you're going to make her laugh so she can prepare, and hopefully avoid any additional trips to the emergency room.) A man who could make me smile at that moment — oh, he is my dream and my blessing.

I could lose everything I own, everything I've ever touched, all the clutter of our lives, as long as David is there to make me laugh.

Here's to laughter and tears, joy and lost shoes — and my husband.