Thirty-five years ago, it was one of those bright, sunny, scorching June days. I got ready at my Grandma’s house before heading to the church.
My groom got dressed at my mom and dad’s house where, thanks to a late-night bachelor party, he was running just a little behind. At one point, he came charging out of the bathroom in nothing but his underwear because he needed my mom to help button his shirt. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t in her Mother-of-the-Bride job description.
Then my dad walked me down the aisle, and I married my best friend.
The priest had one rule I just couldn’t get behind. No kissing the bride. Not during the ceremony. Not at the end. Not at all. I remember thinking, “We’re getting married…how are we not supposed to kiss?”
So the second we were officially husband and wife, I grabbed Phil and planted one on him anyway. The rebel in me couldn’t resist. Thankfully, my husband has spent the last 35 years proving he’s perfectly happy being married to this slightly rebellious woman.
The wedding was only one big day. The real story would be everything that came after. The older I get, the less impressed I am by things. Careers. Titles. The stuff we accumulate.
If you asked me what I’m most proud of, my answer is easy: our 35-year marriage and the family we built together.
We’ve lived through big hair and mullets, moved to Texas three different times (apparently once or twice wasn’t enough), spent some time in Indiana, and eventually found our way back home to Iowa. We raised two amazing kids, made a lifetime of memories, and it seems like we blinked our eyes and found ourselves celebrating 35 years together.
Romance changes over the years. These days, “I love you” is just as likely to sound like, “I filled your gas tank,” “I let the dogs out,” or “I’ll drive.”
Then there’s, “Absolutely not. We are NOT getting another dog.” For the record, that conversation has a perfect track record of ending with…another dog.
People think happily ever after means never arguing. I think it’s learning which hills are worth dying on and which ones are better laughed about later. It’s give and take. It’s knowing when to lead and when to follow. It’s carrying a little more when the other person is tired.
I’m the big-picture person. My husband is the details guy. I’m the “Wouldn’t it be fun if…?” person. He’s the “Okay…but how are we actually going to do that?” person. I’m the dreamer. He’s the planner.
Maybe that’s why we’ve worked so well for 35 years. The best teams don’t need two people who think alike. They need two people whose strengths fit together.
We’ve always supported each other. There were years when my husband focused on growing his career while I focused on raising our family. We never considered one role more important than the other because we were building the same life from different directions.
Now the roles have shifted a little. As I’m chasing this dream of writing, he’s my biggest cheerleader. He’s the first one to read a story, the first one to encourage me, and the first one to celebrate every little milestone. Just like there were seasons when I supported his dreams, now he’s helping me chase mine.
That’s what a partnership looks like. Sometimes you’re carrying the load. Sometimes you’re carrying the dream. Most of the time, you’re carrying each other.
We’ve always had a dream to chase. At first it was building a home. Then it was raising two amazing kids. Then it was cheering them on as they built lives of their own.
Then came the empty nest.
We had to figure out who we were again without the kids being the center of our universe. Turns out…we still liked each other. But also, no kids at home meant…more dogs to fill it. That’s how Team Shoemaker copes with change.
We hope someday we’ll have the privilege of becoming grandparents. Until then, we’re happily spoiling two grand dogs and two grand cats—one of whom has made it his life’s mission to randomly smack my husband in the face.
This past year reminded me just how quickly life can change. More than anything, it reminded me how grateful I am for the life we’ve built together—for the evenings on the deck, the long drives, the conversations that wander everywhere and nowhere, the ordinary adventures we’ve shared, the laughter that’s carried us through hard seasons, and the quiet comfort of knowing someone has walked beside you through every version of your life.
Marriage isn’t finding the right person once. It’s choosing each new version of each other, over and over again.
We never know what the future holds, but after 35 years, I know this: life will change. We’ll keep growing—together and as individuals. We’ll keep finding new dreams to chase because we’ve learned that the magic isn’t just reaching the dream…but the road to getting there.
Anyway—Off We Go…I’ve got the ideas, he’s mapping them out, and somehow…we keep building a pretty wonderful life together. Here’s to whatever comes next…and knowing us, it might have paws. 
© Erica Shoemaker. All rights reserved.
