2016-02-02 – Kit and I were married on Groundhog Day in 1991, 25 years ago today. We were married in the house that became our home by a judge from the Chicago’s domestic violence court. The judge was thrilled to be joining a couple together rather than . . . well, doing what she did every day.

There’s an odd commercial for a travel website in which a young woman reveals that she just got engaged but she’s troubled because she’s not sure that he’s “the one.” People seem to think that you know before you get married.

But how do you know—for sure. Doesn’t everyone wonder?

I loved Kit 25 years ago, but I certainly wondered what the future would bring. Each year has its life challenges. We’ve made a home and raised a family. And we’ve had losses. And each year I became more and more sure. She is the one.

To me, marriage is a totally human institution. There’s nothing magical about it (though my own marriage is sacred to me). Kit is not my soulmate. What’s a soul? We’re not a match made in heaven. We live right here on Earth. Our marriage is not “meant to be.” And it’s not a found object.

What it is, is a work of art.

Our marriage is something that we made. And like a work of art, there were false starts and struggle to get it right. And plenty of revisions. It’s still a work in progress. Not yet ready to be framed.

She was the one in 1991. And she’s still the one.

After 25 years, it’s nice to know.