We have been married for almost two months, though it feels like we were married forever ago and yesterday all the same. The beginning of our marriage was, I daresay, unsettling. I honestly didn't know what to expect, I had so many preconceived notions, supplied by others. In one way, I expected magic, like we would dance on air through the first weeks. In another way, I expected adjustment, fighting, and dealing with the immediate flaws that would shine through our exteriors. The worst fear, though, was that some switch would flip, and that would be the end of "us". Things would change, the romance would be over, communication would slowly die. The day of our wedding, nothing had changed, we were still us. but the following weeks, my fears grew uncomfortably worse. I felt like we had lost our value. We  talked a lot about sensible, adult things, like finances and housework. (Things I hate talking about.) I feared I was losing my whole identity. I felt like I wasn't a contributor to our marriage because of others comments about me being a stay at home wife because my work, which does bring in money, is on the weekends. And I felt like like I had lost value to my husband. I was so swallowed by my fears, that they were becoming reality in my mind, and the doubts were overwhelming. I let the problems of others and imaginary fears tear me apart and almost seriously damage my brand new marriage. It wasn't until I got out of my brain, that I realized what was truly happening. 

My husband, the man who knows me better than anyone, was waiting for me. When I was withdrawn at night, emotional and hurtful, he embraced it without conflict or bitterness. When I spent most of a day in bed, he made me a delicious meal  and let me have my space. Our "magic" wasn't over, it was simply maturing. I remember the first summer, we spent almost everyday together and became best friends in a matter of days. Our car trips to destinations that turned into all day driving. The night before he left for college, I was heartbroken that I wouldn't see my best friend everyday. And the very next day when my grandparents spontaneously decided to take me to see him. I surprised him by telling him I was at the mall nearby, and minutes later he came running, red-faced and slightly sweaty, with the biggest, genuine grin. I thought magic had to be embracing in Target, near tears, after a day apart, or telling each other that we couldn't live without the other every hour. That magic may be over, but a newer, superior magic has taken it's place. We know we couldn't be without each other, it doesn't have to be vocalized. In my selfishness, clinging to those magical, butterfly feelings, I was unaware that we were becoming something better. We have a quieter, thoughtful magic, and yes, after four years, those butterflies still exist.