TROMP TROMP TROMP

That's what I hear right now.  Our duplex neighbors have moved in.  Apparently they only like to move heavy furniture around their house late at night. (That, or they may be elephants).  Yeah.  Rufus doesn't appreciate it.  He's never lived with other people in "his" house before... the trailer and the house we rented last year.  He -really- doesn't know what to think about all of the squeaking and tromping and creaking up there.  I kind of feel sorry for him... it's not like we can explain to him what's going on, ya know?  He woke us up 3 times last night barking at the noise.  (Why our neighbors were noisy enough to wake HIM up THREE TIMES last night, I'll never know.)  Maybe it'll settle down once they get settled in.

Overall we really like our neighborhood.  It's quiet.  Diverse.  Old homes.  Lots of character.  It feels safe.  Neighbors are very friendly.  I believe it was a good decision we made to move.

Wow, our neighbors are noisy.  They really might be elephants.

Today was Charlie and my 3 year anniversary.  It doesn't feel like I'm old enough to have been married for 3 years.  I guess we did get married awfully young.  Yesterday as I was continuing to unpack, I ran across a box Charlie saved of every letter I ever wrote him.  There were about 30 from my time in Costa Rica... the time we were establishing ourselves as a couple.  There were probably 15 pictures I had drawn for him.  Maybe 3 Birthday cards (including the Verser Birthday-Wish).  And Maybe 3 or 4 Valentine's day cards (both pre- and post-dating).

Sometimes I miss that stage in our relationship.  Words were all we had.  Being "internet" friends for 8 years or so before meeting allows you to use a LOT of words.  Words about everything.  Thoughts. Feelings.  Wishes.  Dreams.  Hopes.  Jokes.  Anecdotes. Daily happenings. Non-consequential... words.  Reading through those letters made me feel so incredibly nostalgic and appreciative of the path Charlie and I have taken.

In one letter I told him about how I couldn't stop thinking about him.  All the time.  Every day.  But that I knew that was probably more passion than love.  But then I told him that I (from the HUNDREDS of conversations we had had over the years), knew about his heart... knew about his plans for the future and that Louisiana was the place for that to happen.  I told him I was willing to move my life there, and that I knew that was more love than passion.

I love words.  They make me feel good.  They speak to me.  They comfort me.  Charlie?  Not so much.  He is thankful that stage of our relationship is over because now he can live out the millions of words we wrote to each other in letters.  Now words can jump off the pages and become alive. Now he doesn't just have to end letters with, "I love you", but he can pack me food for a road trip or take our the garbage or bring me home a cantaloupe (and cut it up and put it in the fridge for me).

Marriage is so much more and different and harder and wonderful than I imagined.  How can it not be when you merge two lives together?

I love you, Charlie Loup.  I look forward to the next 72.