Days ago, my wife Carrie and I celebrated our 27th anniversary. We spent the day together, not doing anything mind-blowing, just enjoying each other’s company. As we were driving, Carrie talked about the excitement and energy of our marriage’s beginning versus the quieter sweetness we enjoy now. We agreed every phase of our marriage has had things to treasure, even through more challenging stretches.
Our conversation reminded me of a poem I wrote years ago called “Anniversary Card.” It explores treasuring a relationship over time and through change. This poem was in my first book, The Wind and the Shadows.
Anniversary Card
In a corner
of the kitchen floor,
by a loitering dust bunny
and a scrap of food,
I notice our anniversary card.
It’s a little worse for wear—
probably trampled
and dragged from the other room
by a stampede of
children and cats.
I pick it up.
It now bends
in some unusual places;
the new-card crispness
has changed
into something more
rumpled and pliable,
as if it’s been here
all the years of our marriage.
Carefully,
I smooth the wrinkles
and open it.
My eyes trace the words
inside,
so thoughtfully chosen,
and rest for a moment
with the hand-written name
at the bottom.
I return the card
to the buffet
in the other room,
holding it for a bit
until I’m sure
it will stand.
No doubt
a flying toy,
a breeze,
or a passing elbow
will knock it down
again.
But wherever we find it—
in the kitchen
or under the couch—
you and I
will be there
to pick it up
each day.
A Wandering Minstrel 