On this day, May 18th, ten years ago, Dinka and I were married in a small church in a small town outside of Vienna. Fear not, I have saved most of my extensive (some might even say indulgent) remarks on the occasion for a handwritten letter and soliloquy delivered over dinner that only Dinka was forced to bear, but I did want to mark the occasion here with something.
I've been trying to think of the best way to express how the shared passage of time has changed how I feel. For as easy as it would be to say, "I love you more now than even before," I don't like how linear and comparative that sounds, like a line steadily climbing on a graph, marking progress. But there's no denying that feeling of ever-increasing fullness, of growth that comes with time. I think that a more accurate way to look at it is that at any point in a marriage, you love the other person not only with the love that you feel at that time but with all the love that has accumulated over your time together, with the weight of all your years together behind it. It's not two dimensions but three; there is a volume of love that grows over time.
I felt that volume was all I could ever know in the picture above. Since then it has increased in ways I could never have imagined and so has my capacity to know it. Here's looking forward to finding out how much more we both can hold.