Sep 20, 2012
Here we are–younger, thinner, more energetic–in the arrhythmia of our new love.
The slow, steady beat of time has seen laundry, labor, long nights, loss, laughter. You and me, babe.
You and me.
Nine random memories for nine years:
1. The “pub crawl” in London: I’m still so sad you didn’t earn your t-shirt. The elusive Dick Whittington…
2. On top of Pike’s Peak on the 4th of July, 2011. On top of the world!
3. That time we got stuck in the rainstorm in Cambridge and then we stopped to make out in that little gazebo thing.
4. When you wouldn’t make out with me at church that one time. You were “cold” or something.
5. One big blur of pregnancies, laying on the bed together late at night, freaking out about the alien-like movements across my abdomen. Now we see those kids every day (at least four of them).
6. Bringing our first baby home from the hospital, on that first night when he had his days and nights mixed up and I was crying with the delirium of new motherhood and you were just trying to figure out what to do with this weeping woman and screaming baby. “Babe, I really think he just wants to eat again.”
7. The California trip. There are almost no words. Thank you for taking me there. Changed my life!
8. Driving west on I-94, crying and blasting Fisherman’s Blues. You were wearing your orange sunglasses.
9. When you and Phil tilled up the old yard in the pouring rain so that we could have a yard, bumpy as it was. We had grass that year because of you.
You are the love of my life. I can’t imagine this without you. Thanks for loving me.