My parents celebrated their 33rd anniversary this weekend. Christ himself didn't last much past this milestone. I'm always awed by how much more in love my parents seem than when I was growing up. Is it because they're less stressed out by their kids? Their jobs? Is it because my mom is over the worst part of menopause? That my dad has totally mellowed in old age? Is it me? Am I just better at seeing them as humans and not prison guards?
Regardless.
This weekend also happened to be Canadian Thanksgiving, and we had guests from Australia joining us. I cooked (a first!) two pot roasts and brought them over. Mom and Dad were in their usual pre-guest mania - this is, sadly, a trait I have inherited. Since they weren't my guests, however, I was calm enough to say "Hey! Go get ready! I'll do this." This being make the salad.
Usually we gather to say our thanks; I worried that I would have to say my thanks in front of a bunch of people. I have MUCH to be thankful for: family, friends, love, health, stable job, ability to travel... mostly, though, I'm thankful for my parents and their 33 years together. They are good role models for a healthy relationship (the give and take needed, the respect and love required, the sense of fun); they are good parents, raised me to be strong, capable, and confident in my abilities (their actual anniversary is, fittingly, also Ada Lovelace Day); they are good people, struggling valiantly with the beliefs they grew up with in the face of modern critical thinking - I have to give them credit for at least thinking about it, even if we don't draw the same conclusions. I love them; more importantly, I like them - I don't know if I could have said that when I younger.
Happy anniversary Mom and Daddy. Here's to at least 33 more.
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