She is my wife, my lover, my best friend. For over fourteen years, our marriage has endured and grown. I can honestly state that after all this time together, my love for Patricia has not diminished in the slightest way. In fact, through each passing day, I find myself more and more enraptured by her beauty. The best times of my life are the times we spend together, whether sitting quietly watching television or enjoying an afternoon at a San Diego Chargers game.
There is no secret to why our marriage has lasted while so many others have failed. There is no formula for success that I can offer, other than to express that the most important feature of our relationship is that it has never lost the sense of romance that bloomed when we first met. Too often marriage kills the romance that was born in the courtship of a relationship. To me, I have always felt that I am still courting Patricia, and therefore the romance has never died.
Romance is not something that can be taught or copied. One can only be romantic through another. Patricia, my wife of fourteen years, has instilled the romance in me. I am romantic because of her. Patricia has always brought out the best in me. The many aspects of our romance are too numerous to mention. However, there is one special romantic interlude that I began over fifteen years ago.
Before we were married, Patricia and I could not see each other as much as we would have like during the week. The weekends always went too fast, and the days in between dragged on forever. I decided that I needed to do something to make the weekdays go faster, or at least to give us something to look forward to during the week.
And so it began on Wednesday some fifteen years ago: I bought a card and gave it to Patricia. There was no special occasion. The card was just an expression of how much I loved her and How much I was thinking about her. I picked Wednesday for no special reason other than it was the middle of the week.
Since that day, I have never missed a Wednesday -- Patricia has received a card from me every Wednesday, every week, every month, every year.
The purchase of the card each week is not done out of habit. It is my romantic mission each week to find the right card. At times, my search takes me to many different card stores to find that perfect offering. I have been known to spend a considerable amount of time in front of the card displays, reading up to a dozen different cards before I choose the right one. The picture and the words in the card must have specific meaning to me and must remind me in some way of Patricia and our life together. The card needs to evoke an emotion in me. I know that if a card brings a tear of happiness to my eyes, I have found the right one.
Patricia awakens each Wednesday morning to find her card, and even though she knows it will be there, she still lights up with excitement when she tears open the envelope and reads what is inside. And I still get just as excited giving each card to her.
At the foot of our bed is a brass chest that is filled with all of the greeting cards Patricia has received from me over the past fifteen years, hundreds and hundreds of cards, each one full of just as much love as the next. I can only hope that our life together will last long enough for me to fill ten brass chests with my weekly messages of love, affection and most of all thanks for the joy Patricia has brought to my life.
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