A lot has happened since we had our first dance as husband and wife two years ago today. We’ve lived together with our cat Max in a little one bedroom apartment in Chicago, mastering a carefully orchestrated dance during dinnertime since only one of us could be in the tiny kitchen at the same time. We made fires in our wood fireplace in the winter and took walks through Lincoln Park in the summer. We saved money and miles. We finally got to participate in the married couples’ dance at our friends’ weddings. We lost Max to a bad illness earlier this year. We both quit our jobs. We packed up all the stuff in from our little, beloved apartment and put it all in storage. We bought one-way tickets to Japan. We’ve since visited thirty-two countries and counting and now find ourselves on our second wedding anniversary in Tel Aviv, Israel staying in a rented room of a wonderful family’s home. We’ll probably have falafel for our anniversary dinner. It’s a far cry from the five-course, fancy meal of our first anniversary, but we couldn’t be happier. We’ve spent nearly every moment together over the last six months. I thought all the love we experienced during our wedding would make it the happiest day of our lives, but since then we’ve climbed volcanoes, hiked the Great Wall, explored the dessert, and also were stuck together for hours in immigration lines, slept in airports, and took care of each other when we were very sick. Two years in, and I know life on the road of marriage only gets better and better.