Four years of high school. Four years of college. We look at these four-year spans and neatly wrap them up, setting them aside to fondly look back on in scrapbooks and at reunions. When we began high school, time seemed to drag on, and GPAs and who-asked-who to the dance took on a large amount of importance. When we walked across the stage at graduation, we knew that we had changed, but we may have felt rather similar to the chubby-faced fourteen-year-olds who had walked into the school just a few years earlier. We went off to college, and suddenly, our worldview expanded. Suddenly, no one cared about what had happened in high school, or what our grades had been, or if we had belonged to the National Honor Society. And these four years flew by, until we found ourselves with a degree in hand and a daunting world of responsibilities.
Last week, my husband and I celebrated four years of marriage. As I look back on this time, I realize that it is not easily summarized and packaged like four years of high school, or even four years of college.