Lucky town

Tomorrow is my fourteenth wedding anniversary.  On October 12, 1996, Noel and I got married, and remarkably our parents seemed happy about the event, despite our combined lack of marketable skills.  We just knew we wanted to be together.

Now there are two bubbly, energetic kids bouncing around the house.  Oh, there's a house, in a town where I have a job.  There's a two car garage with two cars in it.  There are all the trappings of settled life.  It's not as luxurious as many, but in so many ways it feels like a damn sight more than I deserve.

On beautiful fall evenings, with the Japanese maples blazing with color and the sunset filtering in through the windshield, I like to think about the little miracle of my life as I drive through town.  The careers that we have, just about exactly what we would have chosen if we had been designing our own jobs.  The children -- so astoundingly bright, so wonderfully happy, so achingly beautiful.

None of that is forever, of course.  It could all be taken away tomorrow.  But what unmerited good fortune -- what grace -- to have enjoyed it even for a moment.