A day between the Ides and Saint Patrick's day.

This was posted on Multiply a year ago. Relevant again today.

Forty-seven years ago this day, on March 16 1966, I was crossing a bridge over the ancient canal that at that time was home to Amsterdam City Hall. 

It was a cold, blustery day with some sideways rain. A just-married couple, she in full white regalia,  emerged from the hall into the lousy weather. And I thought: "Poor bride. But then who plans a wedding at this time of year?" At which point a little bell went off in my brain, and I remembered that this day marked our own first wedding anniversary. 

This set the tone for future years. I take full responsibility for my own part in the lack of celebratory rituals.

We were in our bohemian phase, had lived together for two years before marrying, and considered ourselves beyond bourgeois concerns like wedding anniversaries.

Alas, by the time I got over that and would have liked some recognition the pattern had been set. Mothers' Day ditto. 

Many subsequent anniversaries passed without being marked in any fashion.

By the time we hit 20, our circle of friends was just recovering from one of those waves of  splits and reconfiguration that seem to mark modern life. I was so grateful to have been spared that whole scene that I did not mind that this historic day was overlooked.

I did shed a few private tears when 25 passed in the same fashion. It was not one of our better years anyway, and no, I will not go into details. Anyone who has been married a long time knows that "for better or worse" includes the ups and downs of the relationship itself.

At 30 things had improved. I did not really expect much but still harboured a small hope. The day was marked by our daughter calling at night. "Hi Dad, congratulations". "Congratulations on what?" "Your 30th anniversary." "Anniversary of what?" 

At 35 I took matters in my own hands and organized a dinner with our daughter's in-laws. They owned a store at the time and handed us a nice basket, with the words "Happy Anniversary". Bewilderment on the part of spouse. "I thought your anniversary was in July?" An ESL moment. "No, that's my birthday." We laughed it off as the mature people we were by now and enjoyed the outing.

By now, I am resigned to living with a man who just does not do dates. It's nothing personal. He would walk through fire for his children, but I am not sure he knows their birthdays.

40 and 45 coincided with visits to the kids. We often go to the coast in March, which is a miserable month of melting snow here and full spring in Vancouver.

Today marks the 48th, so help us Goddess. Needless to say, it passed  unmarked. I will organize something in two years, if we are still around. 

Meanwhile I appreciate my Old Dutch for constancy, loyalty, a shared history and sense of humor, a compatible view of the world, and many small kindnesses that make daily life more pleasant.

Happy Anniversary.