I’ve heard it from a lot of people: at some point in your marriage, you aren’t going to feel the same you did when you fell in love. You’re both going to change, and not always for the better. The reasons you decided to get married may suddenly stop existing. You’ll wake up one day and realize that you have to stop thinking and daydreaming that life is going to turn out the way you planned. Which is to say, you’re far enough along that life is already turning out. Shudder.

Lisa, put on your work boots.  Marriage, people like to say, is hard work.

I think Levi and I have a good marriage. So good that the other day, with Disney’s Alladin playing in the background, I felt like a sucker for thinking that one of my three wishes would be that I would never be less happy in my marriage than I am right now. (I know, nauseating. I was like Martin Short in The Three Amigos when he says he’s going to use the money to start a children’s foundation; this right after Steve Martin says he’ll use it to buy a fancy car. Could I be any more baby-faced?)

But it’s true. Last night the baby and I met Levi at Columbus Circle after he got off work. We ate dinner in Sheep’s Meadow. Decided to walk the three miles home despite the humidity, the baby’s bedtime, and the current gnat infestation of Central Park. We got home and read together and talked and then fell asleep watching An American in Paris. Except for when we don’t, we have a lovely time.

Still, I find myself so aware of the “work” that marriage is supposed to require, and so familiar with the stories of people who had to “fight” to make it last, and even more familiar with the people who couldn’t “take” it anymore, that I’m only three years into marriage and already, I’m telling myself to enjoy it while it lasts.

I’m so convinced we’re going to have hard years that you’ll recall that just the other day I used one of my three wishes in an effort to stop it from happening. I ask Levi what we’ll ever do if one of us falls out of love and he says, “Hush. That’s not going to happen.”

But it is, right? I don’t want to be one of those doe-eyes who didn’t see it coming.

Well if it does Lisa, big deal. We woke up this morning with that café dance scene in An American in Paris  on our brains and went to your favorite French bakery for breakfast.

So even if it all goes to pot for a couple of years in the middle, a small price to pay for the cheese and chocolate brioche at year three, the second honeymoon at year two, and the genuine surprise months one through four when you wake up and he’s still there.

Here’s to fewer goodbyes Lisa and Tagg. I think that’s my favorite part.