We Forgot Our 11th Wedding Anniversary

There's something you should probably know about PJ and me this week: we forgot our 11th wedding anniversary. Both of us. Completely slipped our minds.

In our defense, we had a pretty lovely day already planned. We were at Mercier Orchards in Blue Ridge, Georgia, with our children and our best friends for a little apple picking. The weather turned bitter cold, the sky was overcast, and October was doing what October does best. It was shaping up to be one of those perfect autumn days we wait all year for.

We were standing in line waiting to get on the truck that would take us out to the orchard when PJ suddenly stopped, turned to me, and said, "OMG, do you know what today is?" I looked at him, completely confused. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. And then, with him staring at me shocked, my brain finally caught up and my eyes got big.

"OMG. HOW DID WE FORGET?"

We started laughing. The crazy thing is, we had talked about it all week leading up to it, and were both excited to spend it with our family and friends. Last year we went to Highlands, NC for a weekend trip to celebrate our 10 year, so we knew this year would be a lot more lowkey.

Eleven years of marriage, sixteen years together, three children, a farm full of animals, and approximately a million things on our daily to-do lists, and apparently, remembering our wedding anniversary had slipped through the cracks.

It felt very us.

After our little anniversary revelation, we hopped on the truck and headed out to pick apples. The kids were with us, our best friends were there, and the whole afternoon had that easy, unhurried feeling I love so much about this time of year.

The temperature had dropped dramatically, and it was one of those cold, overcast October days when you can finally pull out a sweater, breathe in the crisp air, and feel perfectly content with the world. Some people want sunshine and blue skies for a special occasion. Give me gray skies, a little chill in the air, and a good excuse to eat something warm.

October has always been our favorite month, which is one of the reasons we chose to get married in October in the first place. There's just something about this season that makes everything feel a little more romantic. The changing leaves, the early sunsets, the cozy clothes, the promise of bonfires and holidays just around the corner. It's my favorite time to be outside with my family.

We wandered through the orchard, picked apples, watched the kids enjoy themselves, and did all the things you do on a proper fall outing.

The kids went absolutely wild for the apples. PJ did, too. You could just pick the apples off the ground, take a few bites, and throw them back towards the trunks of the trees. I, sadly, am allergic to raw apples, so I didn’t get to taste any, but I had fun watching everyone else enjoy them.

Anna and her bugs! She has always loved these little furry things. I keep my distance if I can.

And, of course, we made a stop at the bakery for apple fritters and cinnamon rolls, because I don’t want to live in a world where we visit an apple orchard and not eat something covered in cinnamon sugar.

I just don’t want to do that!

It wasn't a fancy anniversary date. There were no reservations, no elaborate plans, and certainly no grand romantic gestures. Just a cold afternoon, our favorite people, and a whole lot of laughter.

And I wouldn't have changed a thing.

On the way home, we stopped in McCaysville for lunch and spent a little time walking around town before heading back to the farm.

After McCaysville, we stopped at an overlook to admire the gorgeous views of the mountains.

When we got home, the kids were begging for hot chocolate, so I made some, complete with whip cream, with our favorite hot chocolate mix. They. Were. In. Heaven.

After that, the sun was beginning to set, and PJ had an idea. We poured ourselves a glass of wine and went for a walk around the farm, which, during this season of our life, is our idea of romance.

I've written before about how much I love our walks around the farm. Sometimes the kids come along, riding their bikes and running ahead of us. Other times, it's just PJ and me, walking through the pastures, checking on the animals, talking about whatever happens to be on our minds, and watching the light change over the hills.

There is absolutely nothing extraordinary about these walks. We're not solving the world's problems or having some grand, life-altering conversation every time we head outside. Sometimes we're talking about the house, the kids, or something we need to get done the next day. Sometimes we're just enjoying the quiet.

But I love that time with him.

I love walking with him, side by side, with a glass of wine in hand and the farm settling down around us, and I can’t help but feel especially grateful for the life we've built. It's simple and familiar. It's ours.

I think when you're married for a long time, you start to realize that romance doesn't always look like a candlelit dinner or a weekend away. Sometimes it's knowing that the person walking beside you is the same person you want beside you tomorrow, and the day after that, and for every ordinary day that follows.

And sometimes, it's remembering that you're married to him in the middle of an apple orchard.

Better late than never, I suppose.

We ended the evening the way any good fall day should end: around a bonfire.

Hot dogs, s'mores, music, more wine, and a fire that felt especially wonderful in the cold autumn air. PJ and I both love that bonfire season is finally back. There's something about gathering outside around a fire after the sun goes down that makes even an ordinary evening feel extra special. We hadn’t had a bonfire out here in over a year, and we missed the scent of camp fire smoke on our clothes and in our hair.

The kids enjoyed the fire, we listened to music, and we settled into that familiar rhythm of an evening at home. There was nowhere to rush off it, no need to be dressed up, no pressure to make the night memorable.

As I sat there that night, I thought about how funny it was that we'd forgotten our anniversary altogether. You might think that after eleven years of marriage, you'd have the date permanently etched into your brain. But life gets busy, and sometimes the days move so quickly that even the important ones sneak up on you.

Still, I couldn't help but think that if we had deliberately planned the perfect anniversary for this particular season of our lives, it probably would have looked a lot like the day we accidentally had.

Our children were there. Our best friends were there. We spent time outside, ate delicious food, came home to the farm, watched the sunset, drank wine, and ended the night around a fire.

What more could we really ask for?

PJ and I have been together for sixteen years and married for eleven, and if there's one thing I've learned about our relationship over that time, it's that we don't always need to make a big production out of celebrating it. We spend pretty much every second of every day together. We work together. We eat together. We work out together. We drive everywhere together. We sleep together. Then we wake up and do it all over again. Together. Every day, for sixteen years.

And while I'm sure some people would find that amount of togetherness absolutely suffocating, I seriously love it. We have built a life where my husband is also my best friend, my business partner, my favorite person to run errands with, and the person I want to tell absolutely everything to at the end of the day.

Of course, that doesn't mean every day is romantic. Sometimes we're tired, sometimes we're stressed, sometimes we're bickering about something ridiculous, and sometimes one of us would probably benefit from a little time alone. We're human, after all.

But there is something incredibly special about getting to experience so much of life alongside the same person. In so many ways, we've grown up together. We've watched our family change, built businesses, made homes, raised our children, and figured things out as we've gone along.

In a way, I think we celebrate our marriage a little bit every day, in small ways. In the coffee we make for each other. In the dinners we share. In the ordinary conversations, the familiar routines, and the quiet moments when we're reminded that, even after all these years, this is still the person we want beside us.

So maybe forgetting our anniversary isn't exactly something I'd recommend. And perhaps next year we'll actually remember the date before lunchtime. But this year, our eleventh wedding anniversary was a cold October day spent picking apples with our children and friends, followed by wine on the farm and a bonfire under the evening sky.

It was simple. It was imperfect. It was completely us.

And I can't wait to see what our anniversary looks like sixteen years from now. Maybe we'll plan something elaborate. Maybe we'll forget again. Maybe we'll be sitting around another bonfire, watching our children grow up and wondering where all those years went.

Whatever it looks like, I hope we're still doing it together. Because after sixteen years, I'm still happiest when I'm walking beside him.

Even if he has to remind me what day it is ;).