This photo was taken on November 28, 2021, in Biloxi, Mississippi — the morning after she got her ring.
I picked up my camera — because that’s what I do — and this is what I saw. Leah. Exactly as she is.
Four years later — married May 6, 2022 — I won’t pretend I have it all figured out. I’m still learning, still adjusting, still showing up. But here’s what marriage has taught me so far.
There’s no such thing as 50/50.
My parents showed me what marriage looked like. Both worked outside and inside the home. When my dad retired, he’d have dinner started by the time we got off the bus. Summers meant dad outside with the boys, mom inside with my sisters. Everyone doing their part. I called that 50/50 and believed it was the blueprint.
What I’m learning is that it’s more complicated than that. Some seasons one of you carries 70%. Some days it’s 90/10. What my parents actually showed me wasn’t 50/50 — it was two people fully committed to showing up, however that needed to look on any given day.
Fifty-fifty is a myth. Showing up fully is not.
The woman you date is not the woman you marry.
It wasn’t a traditional proposal — we walked into a jewelry store, I asked her which one she liked, and I bought it. Simple. Completely me, but I’m glad she went along with it.
The morning after, she put on a Snoopy “Chill” shirt, sat down on the couch, and let me take her picture. That shirt tells you everything you need to know about her. She’s more comfortable now than she’s ever been around me. More present. More her. There are moments I think — who is this woman? And then I remember: this is who she always was. She just needed to know it was safe to show me.
You have to have a short memory.
Marriage will give you reasons to hold on to things. I’m learning to let them go.
Not every argument needs a verdict. Not every disagreement needs a winner. Some of the best moments in our marriage have come right after the worst ones, because we both chose to let it go and come back to each other.
She matters more than being right. I don’t always get that right — but I’m working on it.
Marriage requires sacrifice — from both of you.
Leah left her home, her parents, and everything familiar to move to a different state and start over. That’s an act of trust — in me, in us, in something she couldn’t fully see yet but chose anyway.
Marriage has a way of showing you what someone is truly willing to give up for you. When you see it clearly, it changes how you show up.
We’ve both laid something down to build this. That’s worth remembering — especially on the hard days.
I call her my forever migraine.
Not as a complaint — as a confession. She challenges me, stretches me, and occasionally drives me absolutely crazy. But Leah chose me. And I chose her. Every day since that November morning in Biloxi, through all of it, that choice has held.
Four years in. Still learning. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
Happy anniversary.
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