When I think back on this morning eighteen years ago, it really does seem a lifetime ago. Just a couple of weeks shy of three years in (relationship, love, living together—all more or less an instant deal) we were not strangers or anything.
Still, our sense of excitement over what was coming next was high. We were enjoying an awesome wedding weekend. We were moving to London for a year that turned into eighteen months. We knew we wanted to have children.
In no way was our initial plan to have four children.
Exhausted as we are, we’re glad we did.
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I’ve been holding this list on my computer for weeks, thinking I’d come up with some list of things I love about my dear husband. The thing that I keep coming to isn’t a list; it’s just this: I really admire how he’s grown over the two decades and a tiny bit I’ve known him. He was great don’t get me wrong—funny, smart, caring, interesting—all terrific things (he still is). But he’s way greater now. Together, we’ve learned how to love each other, love our children, love our families, love our friends, love our community—and sometimes clear the table off more or less.
