For the first time in our married life, Andy and I did not celebrate our wedding anniversary in Boston, because these are not typical times. Surprisingly, it may have meant a little more, and not only because it was our tenth. After ten years, there’s not much new to discover, but as we sat on a sunny and slightly chilly deck near a cherry tree in full bloom, I was surprised at the tenderness I felt for Andy, even after all these years, and probably because of them. The longer a fire burns, even when it slumbers and only smolders, the stronger it sometimes feels.
Mom had gifted us come calamari to cook since we wouldn’t be able to go out, so we made that as an appetizer. It wasn’t bad, and I made a roasted red pepper aioli, and poured out some pre-made sweet chili sauce.
A hibiscus grapefruit mocktail, christened with a cherry, provided a pretty portal into the coming summer season. Andy and I discussed pool liner plans, and the notion of sun and fun, even in solitude, made for a happy moment of promise. The twinkle of a sparkling summer, even in the distance on this cool afternoon, lent another layer of giddiness to the appetizer.
Andy put a couple of chateaubriand cuts on the grill, which turned out perfectly, then it was time for the closest we could get to that glorious chocolate wedding cake we had in Boston ten years ago.
A tuxedo cake from Price Chopper may sound both glamorous and decidedly not glamorous at the same time, but it was enchanting enough, and made for more than a fine substitute. On nights such as a tenth anniversary, it’s not the food that matters, it’s the company.
We’ll return to Boston to honor our anniversary another time. For now, we placed a proverbial marker beneath a gorgeous cherry in bloom, beside a long-blooming group of jonquils, their season extended by the cool weather, because there is balance and purpose to everything that’s meant to be.
