Maria woke up this morning and reminded me that today is our 14th Wedding Anniversary. I sometimes forget that we married in a big barn with donkeys and sheep outside the door. It was the perfect place for us to get married and set a tone that continues in our marriage today.

There is not much I haven’t said about our marriage. The bottom line is that Maria and I each helped to save the other’s life and teach the other what it means to feel joy, love, and happiness.

Maria said that the length of our marriage doesn’t matter; it feels like we’ve been together all our lives. That is what it feels like. I seem to love Maria more daily; if that is even possible, and for reasons I may never comprehend, she loves me in return.

She told me the other day that she loves me more than ever as I learn to face my problems and flaws, support her dreams, and appreciate her gifts and worth to be better and healthier.

Maria is not like the other children. She is different, a fiercely individual and passionate human being. She is caring, forgiving, generous, and, above all, creative.

We love being together.

We laugh all the time, fight sometimes, and are more respectful of our different lives than ever.

We both understand that I will likely be the first to go, and our conversations about death have been honest and helpful.  We both accept life.

I lost a close friend and neighbor this week, a vital, strong-willed, and passionate man who collapsed and suffered a massive heart attack. He was a good friend and was younger than me. His death reminded me to live honestly and well and think of people other than myself.

I accept death as a part of life, but he is the closest person who physically has died so abruptly. I need to absorb it. His death made me appreciate my life with Maria and cherish what is left. He had a good life; he lived the way he wanted and died the way he wanted. I’m grateful for knowing him.

Maria has grown and changed dramatically over these years, but her core has remained the same. I could not have been more fortunate. She is the greatest gift from leaving my ordinary life behind and moving to the country.

I still can’t believe we can live together in a remote town in upstate New York with more cows than people. It was the last place I ever expected to meet anyone I would come to love. There are miracles.

And here we are, 14 years later, together on the small farm with our dogs, barn cats, sheep, and donkeys. Our paradise, woods, and beauty.

When I am low, she lifts me; when I am small, she makes me large. When I am wrong, she makes me right. Together, we share the meaning of life, good and bad.

We have no plans to celebrate our anniversary, at least today. We’re both too busy. This weekend, we might go to a movie and have dinner or stay at home and celebrate what we have.

Life is always too short in some ways, but whenever I feel low or vulnerable, I think of Maria as my love and partner in life, and it just lifts my heart and makes my soul sing. A life with Maria is joyful and meaningful, no matter what else happens.

We are both an excellent team, different but entirely in sync. The German and Sicilian in her blood makes her all the more interesting. When she’s angry, I tell her she’s like a raccoon caught in a trap, hissing and steaming.

Every time I look at her, my heart lifts. We even enjoy fighting occasionally; it’s great fun to make up. When I wake up and look at her each morning, I thank the spirits for being married to the person lying in bed beside me. She is, along with my daughter, the greatest gift of my life.

Happy Anniversary, Maria! You are the heart of my life.