anniversaries are like double birthdays

On New Year's two some-odd years ago, Mr. F took me to this very beach to watch the sunrise.  While we were already knee deep in wedding planning, he hadn't officially proposed yet.  He walked me down with a blanket in one hand a guitar in the other.  He played me a song written especially for me and as the sun crested the horizon, he asked me to be his wife.

On Monday morning, we went back to that same beach to wait for daybreak to celebrate two years together.  We went back to the place it all started.  For breakfast, we tucked the blanket under our arms and walked to one of our favorite local spots that overlooks the Atlantic. We reminisced about how we got together, through dating and our early months of marriage.  Our situations have changed drastically in two years, but we have drawn closer together and are ideas and dreams are more uniform.  As I scrapped the last remnants of eggs benedict from my plate, we played a few rounds of our old "What If?" game, trying to peg where we will go next.  Neither of us have any clue.  Hand in hand we walked back to the car, smiles deeply creasing our exhausted faces.  With eyes alight, I felt every ounce of the new bride but with the comfort of my old friend holding my hand.