Standing on the porch, with autumn in full swing, I find the crispness of the evening air invigorating as I think back on the night of our wedding. I can still recall it in vivid detail, just as I can remember all that happened during the year of the forgotten anniversary.
It feels odd to know that it’s all behind me. The preparations had dominated my thoughts for so long and I’d visualized it so many times that I sometimes feel that I’ve lost contact with an old friend, someone with whom I’d grown very comfortable. Yet in the wake of those memories, I’ve come to realize that I now have the answer to the question that I’d been pondering when I first came out here.
Yes, I decided, a man can truly change.
The events of the past year have taught me much about myself, and a few universal truths. I learned, for instance, that while wounds can be inflicted easily upon those we love, it’s often much more difficult to heal them. Yet the process of healing those wounds provided the richest experience of my life, leading me to believe that while I’ve often overestimated what I could accomplish in a day, I had underestimated what I could do in a year. But most of all, I learned that it’s possible for two people to fall in love all over again, even when there’s been a lifetime of disappointment between them.
I’m not sure what to think about the swan and what I saw that night, and I must admit that being romantic still doesn’t come easily. It’s a daily struggle to reinvent myself, and part of me wonders whether it always will be. But so what? I hold tight to the lessons that Noah taught me about love and keeping it alive, and even if I never become a true romantic like Noah, it doesn’t mean that I’m ever going to stop trying.
