Eighteen years ago today, on a Tuesday during rush hour, my husband and I got married by the beach in Guánica, after the electricity and the water went out at the inn, and a shower sprinkled my father and me as we walked onto the path that led us to the judge who performed the ceremony.

All the seeming obstacles were a fitting metaphor for a marriage that has survived countless outside challenges but stayed strong, very strong, inside.

He is still the best thing that ever happened to me.