To my wife, on our 50th wedding anniversary.
We are one.
This is a profound mystery, but after fifty years, we are one.
We were not always one. We began as two. You were one and I was one. Each of us was looking, seeking "the one." Even after we met, we remained two.
Through Saturday night dates and Sunday afternoons together, I learned that you were a special one. Back then, my greatest fear was that I would say or do something that would make you think less of me or drive you away. I still do, and remain pleasantly surprised that I did not.
When we married, we joined hands, said vows, exchanged rings, and were pronounced one in the presence of God, our families and our friends. We were not yet the one we are now, but we were one nevertheless. Back then, we were like two trees planted closely together, each with its our own separate roots and branches. Over time, we grew together our roots and branches growing entwined to the point we can no longer be separated. It is difficult to tell where one stops and the other begins. We remain distinct, but we are one.
I am more authentically me when I am with you. I sense it's much the same with you. Our one is greater than the two we were could ever be.
Being one does not mean that we see eye-to-eye on everything. That would be boring. But we are aligned on what's important and that's more than enough.
We've been working on it for fifty years.
Now, we are one.