For R.

We placed buttercups in a jar at the center of the table the day we were married; they were unassuming and beautiful. Like the love we share. Not loud or extravagant, just warm and steadfast.

Our son was sick that day.
Our daughter was wound tightly with excitement.
There were no wedding arches or ballrooms, just the warmth of those we care about sharing the moment with us.

We said “I do” between tending a fever, wrangling wayward guests, and laughing, eyes wet with joyful tears. Celebrating the life we had already woven together with so much happiness, shared grief, and the simple threads of gentle, everyday love.

And today I saw the blooms of buttercups along the edge of the garden, the bright cheerful blossoms catching the sunlight just like they did the day we were married.

I saw those little yellow blooms and thought of that day, the days that came before, and those yet to come and it felt like us. Then, now, still. A deeply rooted love
bright and tender and growing.