The other day I was caught off guard by something I saw on my husband. I stared at the back of his head for quite some time. "What are you doing?" He asked self-consciously. "Are you looking at my hair?"
I smiled and my eyes grew wide as I, indeed, was caught off guard again by this white hair we discovered together a few months ago.
He looked at me like, well what do you expect?
We laughed and I kind of made a big deal about it, which led us into the crazy, weird reality of how we're aging together. It feels like yesterday we were 23 and 26, pledging our lives to one another on a wintry December day among all our friends and family. This year, I turn 32 and he'll be 35.
"I was noticing the other day how my hands are changing too," he added.
I glanced down at them and he was right. His hands were more mature. I always loved the strength I saw and felt from them.
I looked down at mine and reflected on all that we'd experienced together – the exchanging of our wedding rings, hanging up picture frames in our first apartment, writing down goals for the new year, driving across country to live in a new state, writing and editing seminary papers, preparing meals in the kitchen, signing the paperwork to our first home, holding each of our children for the first time, changing dirty diapers, unclogging drains, remodeling rooms, and so much more.
[Read the rest of the article at Start Marriage Right.]