I forgot my anniversary.
Well, one of them.
December 18 is when Laura and I met, October 31 is the day we got married, and February 23 is the day our marriage was consecrated in the church (as in, legally wed according The Church).
I can’t tell you how long we’ve been together or how many years we’ve been married, but I’ve never forgotten those dates. Until this year.
The problem comes in our annual tradition. Laura and I didn’t have a “first date” (I was the party guest who never left, but that’s another story) so much as we just hung out. We lived a block and a half away from each other. That first night after the party I was at her apartment and I made dinner. Stuffed peppers.
Every year on December 18 I make stuffed peppers. Except this year. I forgot. We don’t do much to celebrate any of our anniversaries, but this is a big deal.
It may seem inconsequential, but it isn’t. I felt like such a jerk. We planned our menu for the week, did the grocery shopping, and not once did either of us mention our anniversary. I didn’t have the ingredients to quickly put it together.
So tonight I’m making stuffed peppers. A day late. I went to the grocery store this morning and picked up the ingredients I need – including the peppers. She doesn’t know. Hopefully she will be pleasantly surprised.