Broken Bed

My husband, Ontonio and I were born in the same hospital two days apart. I was born on the 13th of April, and he entered the world, and my heart, on the 15th. In the eyes of the law, we have been married for thirteen years. However, if you were to query my husband about how long we’ve been married, without hesitation, he would say thirty-seven years. This is because according to him, his first cry was his proposal to me and my gentle coos, my reply. Over the years we have fluctuated between various individual celebrants, but the one occasion that has been consistent is our ONE BIG Birthday celebration.

On our thirty-first birthday, we made arrangements for our three children to stay with family and boarded Carnival Cruise Line for a seven-day western Carribean cruise. We glided, it seemed, to our cabin and before we knew it, our adult-excitement broke the bed. We laughed so hard that we both had tears in her eyes. In between breaths, when we weren’t bent over in happy tears, we were beseeching each other to call the front desk, and to report our broken-bed-blunder.

While there is something magical about our births, our marriage is not as old as my husband thinks. We have twenty-four years before we celebrate our 37th wedding anniversary. Until then, however, I hope there’ll be many more big birthdays and broken beds. The experience, of course, and not the expense.

Don’t be selfish, share your story in the comments.

When was the last time you laughed until your belly hurt?