20 years ago, right about now (10pm), on this exact date, at a party in the dorm-room of mutual friends of ours, at Colby College, both starting out our senior year, Braydon and I met for the first time. It was love at first sight. I know, I know, so cliche. But sometimes, so true. We left the party holding hands.
We’ve had our moments (and our months, and our years), but held hands through thick-and-thin ever since.
We’ve had grad school days of eating on a shoe-string-budget (baked potatoes for dinner! way-too-many-a-night!), and studying ’till 2am (while every other 20-something we knew was rockin’ the Boston bar scene), and years and years of working our tails off to slowly inch toward our independenty- and mutually-set goals and aspirations.
We’ve danced at our own (glorious, delirious) wedding and the beautiful weddings of at least 30 other couples that are our nearest and dearest.
We’ve got two doctorate degrees, a technology company, tenure at a Top-50 university, one of us has a couple of thousand of LinkedIn connections, and one of us has zero LinkedIn connections.
We’ve spent a ton of time in therapy. We’ve spent a ton of money on school loans. We’ve spent way too many hours over-analyzing every little thing.
We’ve had fabulous vacations and we’ve explored the vineyards and wineries of Burgundy, and we’ve protested things and fought for things we believe in and sometimes decided to just flow with the current.
We’ve had, and have, lots and lots of wonderful friends and acquaintances and relationships and neighbors and family members and people who have come into our lives for short spurts or long-spells.
We’ve spent a lot of money on baby shower gifts, and we’ve been showered exponentially by the baby gifts graciously given to us.
We’ve shoveled snow and dealt with poorly-engineered gutter systems, and jumped into swimming pools and lakes and oceans, and we’ve held each other while vomiting and crying and jumping up and down in celebration and cunvulsing with sobs with the tragedy of losing people that we love.
We’ve faced fears and adversities. We’ve met challenges, and we’ve failed. We’ve screwed up and made mistakes and we have surpassed (already) and expectations we ever had for ourselves.
We’ve confessed our inner-most thoughts and fears and insecurities. We’ve cheered each other on and held down the fort to overcompensate in order to get the other through a thick spot.
We’ve taken on hobbies, and let them drift off. We’ve read books that we’ve spent hours discussing, which we’ve now long forgotten we ever even read.
We’ve fought so hard and so long that we felt weak and famished and completely drained when it was finally over.
We’ve felt what it feels like to accomplish big huge things together.
We’ve lived in a bunch of places together, owned two houses together, moved onto a different-college-campus-than-the-one-we-met-on together.
We’ve had ups and downs and winter seasons and summer seasons and dry spells and richly elaborately charmed spells.
We’ve got a lot together.
But of course, the biggest thing we’ve got together are our three crazy kids. We love this trio with a wild abandon and fierce attachment. Way past babyhood and we still just cannot stop taking their pictures and marveling at their greatness and grandness and at our gratefulness for them in our life together. Oh, and yes, we’ve sometimes (oftentimes) pulled our hair out together at their infuriating antics.
As of right now, we’ve got 20 big years and 3 crazy kids together.
There is never a dull moment. And that’s how we like it. It is messy, but we are going strong.
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