Anniversary musings

I've now been married just over a year. Robin and I had our anniversary this weekend and it put me in a strangely contemplative mood. (That and the fact that I just read an excellent and deeply thought provoking book called 'Still Alice').
Before I was married it seemed like this elite club, a sort of social nirvana, and I was eager to join their ranks and find my soulmate; the person who completed me and was the half I'd always been missing. But it isn't quite like that, I've discovered. I don't know quite how to explain it, I tried to tell Robin that I didn't feel married, but that's not quite right- I think a better way to explain it is that I still feel like the same Heather I always have been. I suppose as a child I had this illusion in my mind of what I would be like as an adult- a sort of abstract concept of my future self as an object separate from myself. Then, I was surprised to discover the adult me is the exact same person as the child me. I am and always have been and always will be the same girl.
That being said, I do like being married. But I haven't really changed into a different person now that I have another half- in fact, if anything, I understand Robin less that I thought I did when we were first together.
We went out for dinner on sunday night, to the Keg, which was a vast improvement over my cooking. We had an appetizer of sizzling scallops wrapped in bacon and dipped in red sauce. Then Robin had a huge pink slab of prime rib (I do not understand the attraction of rare meat in the slightest) and I had an entire Atlantic lobster. It came on the plate like it had been plucked out of the ocean and it seemed a shame to break it apart and destroy it's beautiful red shell. I've always wanted to have lobster and I finally did. It was messy, and a lot of work, cracking the shell and dipping the juicy meat in melted butter and lemon juice, but oh, so worth it.
For dessert I had warm creme brulee with the smooth creamy inside and crackly sugar top. Divine.
The lobster was kind of like my visions of me as an adult, or what marriage would be like. It was wonderful, but not at all what I expected. We went home from the Keg and played board games and then lay in bed listening to the sound of a bullfrog outside. It reminded me of being in Antigua, lying in the stifling heat and unable to sleep because of the symphony of frogs and crickets and birds outside my window. It brought back nostalgic memories, which are always either good or neutral because of the healing effect of time.
I was pretty impatient to grow up as a kid. I didn't like being a skinny little girl in a world of tall people that didn't have to follow all the rules and who could say and do whatever they wanted. I wanted to be beautiful and have long dark hair and wear mini skirts and have a tall boyfriend. I wanted to have an exciting career, like Florence Nightengale or Maria von Trapp. I remember asking my mom to come take a picture of me as a six year old, and when she came outside with the camera, I was leaning against the tree in my swimsuit and wide-brimmed straw hat, with a coy smile on my face and one hand on my hip. I was ready to be an adult. I wanted to travel and work and get married and fly in airplanes and eat lobster.
Some things in life have been deep disappointments, like never actually growing tall and my first kiss and tasting champagne and realizing I didn't like it at all even though it sounded so glamorous. Other things have been more delightful than I possibly could've imagined, like having nieces and nephews, and studying chemistry, and having a garden on my porch, and getting married to someone who is extremely intelligent and insightful.
I think Robin probably feels the same as me, that we've lived so long being ourselves that marrying another person doesn't automatically erase who we are. I am trying to learn about him but he is like a book written in another language and some of the chapters don't make sense yet. When it comes to lobster, I may or may not have it again, but I'm glad I had that experience once and now I can cross it off my list of things to do before I die. With marriage, I've only just begun.