I was waiting at the Saturday Market fountain for our first date when you text me asking where should you find parking. My first thought was: figure it out. But maybe I replied something more kind than annoyed. However, when you arrived I was equally less impressed by your worn, skater boy type shoes.
Then you spoke. I liked the sound of your voice. Then you made me laugh, quickly and easily. It wasn’t that day that I started to fall in love with you, but it was that day that I knew I needed to see more of you. The thing about first impressions, they may be lasting but only as a first. The second impressions, morning impressions, impressions over glasses of wine start fading those firsts.
When people just know the facts of our story they think we’ve done everything backwards. After all, we have given them enough water cooler blotter. We are that couple that didn’t just move into an apartment together, we are that couple that bought a mother-loving house with a cute backyard. We aren’t that couple that said I love you after three weeks, we are that couple that spent months of getting to know each other and really fighting for our love to say it. We aren’t that couple that whoops got pregnant, we are that couple that already has two kids we parent because they are yours and now I call them mine too.
This last year, you have given me road trips with deep talks, a yes attitude, challenges to behaviors that no longer serve me, Pacific Northwest exploring, parenthood, brewery sampler trays, a Weeping Willow planted in our yard, belly laughs, miss you pains, and thank the Mother Jesus, Love.
In the end, we are just at the beginning and I wouldn’t change anything about our love story, because it’s still the story I get to write on a Sunday morning while you sleep next to me.
Happy Anniversary, my Big Love.