The Plans I Have For You.

"Really?..."

It's an innocent question, so I can't blame people for asking it. My answer is the truth, though, and it always gets met with a bit of disbelief. 

"But you're living with a man now." 

"I would hope that something's set in by now, heh heh."

"It's been over a week now, hasn't it?"

Yes, I am and yes, it has. 

But perhaps I missed the part during the wedding ceremony where the pastor flipped the mental switch that made words like "Mrs." and "wife" and "Katherine Swing" feel more like well-worn jeans and less like high heel shoes that are entirely too big for me (and knowing my shoe size, that's saying something). 

Or maybe I was talking during the reception when someone magically erased the fact that we were practically living together already, spending so much of the day together before parting ways at night, that living with him feels completely normal rather than something totally new and unexplored. That's not to say that actually living with him hasn't been a change. There's been a lot of give and take already, a lot of quirks that neither of us saw, a lot of moments of sit-down discussions. But when we've been compromising and adjusting and discussing and loving each other through all of it during all of the last two years, should doing it as a married couple as opposed to a dating or engaged couple really feel that much different? 

Or maybe it's more practical. It could be the fact that everything leading up to the wedding was a blur, and the wedding was this day of pure beautiful bliss that I want to relive over and over again, and then the honeymoon started where everything was different and new and there were really no normals to compare our new life to. Yes, I was waking up next to a man, but I was waking up next to him in a huge California King bed in front of mountains. Nothing about that was a regular occurrence for me, and different is only different when compared to normal, so in a place where there is no normal, why would anything seem different? Word to the wise - honeymoons are incredibly wonderful, but also incredibly over-romanticized. When a new aspect of the relationship previously denied is now encouraged, there is just as many discussions and small tears as happiness and curled toes while the two people figure each other out. And I wish I would've known that beforehand. I will thank God every day that I have the most considerate, patient, understanding, selfless man that He ever made. 

Or maybe it hasn't completely set in because, even when we came back from the honeymoon and settled into familiar territory again, we weren't doing familiar things. Nobody regularly opens up mounds of expensive household gifts, or has to figure out where to put wedding stuff, or goes bank shopping, or figures out a budget with another person with a whole lifetime of dreams in mind, or runs around with paperwork trying to change their name, or plans when they can both sit down and tackle 100+ thank you notes. 

Or maybe it's because he hasn't stopped pursuing me, trying to win me over as if he hasn't already got me heart and soul already. And I know that that won't ever change, that he'll always fight to figure out my heart and win it. The intensity of his love hasn't changed one bit. 

Or maybe it's just because stupid Facebook won't let me change my last name, even though I've gone through all of the processes and tried every trick and have sent in identification multiple times a day for a week and I STILL CAN'T GET AN E-MAIL FROM THEM, even though they say I should expect one shortly. So I still see Famuliner each and every time. It's a small thing, yes, but it's really been frustrating me. 

But...

Sometimes, it does set in. Just for a moment, like I'm holding sand between my fingers and the instant I realize it, it slips through. Still, every day, I'm holding on to it for just a bit longer. 

It's when we pray together.

It's when I say "good-night" instead of "good-bye". 

It's when he wakes up with me at 5:30 to work out. 

It's when I realize that I'll have a running partner for the rest of my life.

It's when he takes out the trash or dries dishes.

It's when I curl into my spot under his arm and he brushes my hair back.

It's when I finally catch him singing.

It's when I see a ring on his finger, and not just mine.

It's when the little girls at church climb all over him like a jungle gym.

It's when we finally see each other after our first day back to work.

It's when the word "ours" is used.

I don't think that it'll set it any time soon that I'm a married woman now, a wife with a husband, a missus.

But I do think that I could get used to it, just the same.