That’s almost a decade. That’s closer to ten years than to five. When I was sixteen, eight years was half of my life, and when I was eight, well – eight years was everything.
Depending on what you’re measuring, eight years can be a small eternity (if you spend it all in college), or no time at all (for living, say, it isn’t nearly enough). But when you’re counting the years spent married to a wonderful man, eight is a beautiful number.
(Of course, I do hope the numbers keep climbing.)
Happy Anniversary, Mr. Mitch! You’re the bestest.
(Photo credit: Ben Bender)