8th Anniversary Love Letter - September 1, 2009

(After 11 years of good lovin’)

This is a love letter.
When you begin reading it might not seem like one, but it is. Keep reading until the end.

Over the duration of our marriage we’ve navigated through many challenges …
• Between us we’ve had 10 surgeries in 11 years
o Back; shoulder; ectopic twins; D&C; Callum caesarean; D&C; knee; TL; Hernia x2
• Totaled one vehicle but owned 7 cars and 2 motorcycles in total
• Explored 14 countries and lived in 2
o Oz; New Zealand; Malaysia; Thailand; Cambodia; Laos; India; Scotland; England; Mexico; U.S.A.; France; Italy; Canada
• Experienced desert expanse, prairie flatness, bottoms of oceans and tops of mountains, from -52C to + 46 C
• We’ve driven across most of Canada four times. We’ve flown to the U.K. 6 times.
• We’ve lived in 11 places in less than 10 years
o We’ve made our home in Point Grey Vancouver, in a cabin by a lake, in a cabin by a frozen lake. We’ve owned a house that came with a coop and 6 chickens. Moved to Ontario, moved to Victoria, moved to France. The 11 places we’ve lived are: Collingwood, Vancouver; your dad and Shelagh’s; our house in Cloverdale; two cabins on the shoreline of Black Sturgeon Lake; Huntsville (Kelly and Sandy’s); Victoria (Fairfield Rd.; Carrick St.; and Newton St. [Shelbourne Apartments])

We’ve conceived five times. We’ve survived depression, two mental breakdowns and multiple kids in our home (with my daycare business). We’ve endured a law suit, a fraudulent tax accountant, being potless, both my parents having cancer, Callum’s numerous trips to emergency (in three countries) including three long hospital stays.

Professionally you’ve moved from a three-person family business to the hub of a global company. I’ve worked for not-for-profit agencies and high-tech corporations. I made it to the 2nd interview for ED of OB Canada. Together we’ve managed a base camp from conflict/community management, staff supervision, training and logistics to building and vehicle maintenance, energy source management and storm recovery. 24 hours a day 7 days a week we worked and played together and we thrived.

We’ve run dogsleds, hiked the Bugaboos, climbed glaciers, scuba-dived the Great Barrier Reef, walked around Uluru, water-sledged down a 7 meter waterfall, took the slow boat down the Mekong, skied at Whistler/Blackcomb, swam in the Mediterranean, made love on a roof-top, rock-climbed past Philosopher’s Perch, camped in Algonquin, hiked in the Lake District, trekked in the Alps and ran whitewater in kayaks and canoes. We’ve taken parenting courses, been to counseling and chilled out at Ko Phi Phi, Mazatlan, Powell River, Long Beach and Point No Point. We’ve eaten sushi, crocodile, peanut butter balls, bull’s balls, butter tea, bee larvae, haggis, dim sum, Mekong catfish, kangaroo tail and stir-fry on the streets of Bangkok containing mystery ingredients. We’ve been to the London Art Gallery, the Uffizi, and the Louvre. We’ve eaten Montreal bagels at 3 am and drunk Lao Lao with the locals. Over time we’ve adopted 2 cats, 4 fish, 6 chickens and neighbors. We’ve had better sex than 90% of the population (I haven’t interviewed the last 10%). We’ve moved countries and cultures.

We’ve created, with magic and the blessings of God and the Universe, a child; a full-on person; a Bucknell from Loewen-land. We’ve been awake at 4 am wondering why our kidlet is once again in our marital bed. We’ve watched him move every limb in a different direction at the speed of light, make jokes, orate elaborate stories, climb 25 feet up a tree, calmly pet a dog three times his size, organize and motivate a group in a game, sing a crying baby quiet. In amazement we’ve watched our incredibly social son adapt and make friends in a new culture where he can’t use his words. We watch him in amazement: inquisitive, freckled, brave. A small sturdy soldier holding an olive branch in a strange new world.

And we’re right there with him in the midst of this new adventure, struggling, persisting, overcoming; sometimes riding the wave and other times trying to put a bouncy castle between us and a crash and burn.

I get angry about it sometimes. Angry at myself for not learning French, angry about our finances, angry that you’re not happy (you were bored in Victoria though too). But I know we’ll survive it, weather it, grow from it and find our way home. Meanwhile, home must be each other, which is the way it should be.

So while we’re here, let’s be sensible with money but have some fun, invest in each other and our son … take the opportunity to solidify a relationship that is as battered, wily and good-humored as a pirate ship.

Take no prisoners but drink all the rum.
And decide to go home when the wind turns.

Cheer up Bucky-boy. Life is not permanent but spirit is, and I will love you always.

R