Real

Grahm and I are a year old today. Not so "Recently Roached" anymore. We're basically experts on this whole marriage thing; go ahead ask us anything. (Ha.)

This time a year ago, I was putting on my white dress. I was getting ready with my best friends and anticipating my new life and role as Mrs. Roach. My stomach was a jumble of nerves and excitement. I wanted everything to go smoothly; I wanted all the details I had worked so hard on to turn out beautifully. But I knew if it didn't... if my bridesmaids had set each other on fire and my cake had toppled to the floor... it wouldn't have mattered. I was still marrying my best friend. 

I'm not sure what I thought marriage would be like one year ago. I wish I had written it down. Whatever preconceived notions were in my head, however, have definitely been blown out of the water. Marriage is a wonderful pie slice of joy and struggle, where chocolate filling is happiness and the crust is all your disagreements. You can't really have one without the other. Otherwise, you'd just have pudding. Or graham crackers. That's not pie; that's not a real marriage. (This analogy probably didn't work at all, but pie is on the brain. Nom.)

Grahm and I definitely have our problems, sure. I get mad too easily; he never remembers our plans. I can't cook (a good) dinner to save my life; he rivals a four-year-old in the picky-eater department. I struggle with wanting to micro-manage everything; his middle name is aloof. I fart too much; he farts too much. The list goes on. Throw into the mix that Grahm is a male engineer and I'm a female writer and the communication issues just take a nosedive from there. 

But for all our quirks and shortcomings, we have a beautiful marriage because it is real. We are true to ourselves and true to each other. We are imperfect people trying to love Christ and love each other with a selfless love. It's not always donuts and roses, but I know our love, real love, is better than any fairytale I could ever imagine.