By Jesse Marx
By Chris Parker
By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
Don't take nights like that too seriously, but take them seriously enough to reclaim what they take away from you. Remember what it felt like to look into each other's eyes the way you will Friday, and from the seeds of that look, nurture a glance that you share with absolutely no one else, one that can swiftly cut across a crowded room and say, in a twinkling, that you have not forgotten who she or he is, who you are together, and that you have not forgotten your first date or kiss or the bars or back seats or the stupid things you've done and tried to make right or all the things you inspired each other to do, all the things you never would have done without each other, all the things you're going to do with each other.
Don't be too hard on yourself when you make mistakes or act like human beings. And when things feel mundane or worse, remember the big picture, like the one you might see when you and the kids are out walking the neighbor's dog, and the three of them suddenly bolt out ahead of you, their little silhouettes caught by the streetlight, and you stop worrying and disciplining long enough to stop for a moment and watch them run and run and run.
If you're lucky, you'll take a second to stand there, alone under the stars, thinking not about Larry King or lameness or wanderlust, but about the things you take for granted, like how you found each other in the first place. And in that moment the little picture will be obliterated and the big picture will crack open in front of you. In fact, a gilded velvet curtain will part, and you will find yourself gazing stupidly at those little bobbing moonlit heads and you will hear yourself say, almost involuntarily, just loud enough for the squirrels to hear, "Jesus Christ, look at that. "
Jim Walsh can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or 612.372.3775.