Thirteen years ago, I woke up to the gray pattering of rain. Yellow leaves spun and twirled to the ground. I sipped my coffee and prayed for the rain to stop. I had a big day ahead.
Just a few hours later, I married The Man. And now, I sit here, trying to think of some way to put thirteen years into a few paragraphs. That is rather impossible, I suppose.
I could say that a snapshot of my life looks rather what I imagined it would look like… The house. The kids. Me and The Man. But that snapshot is just a picture. And behind that picture is a story of all that two people go through to come to the point, thirteen years later, when that picture is taken.
It is Barbados. Cobbler’s Cove. Rum punch. And nothing to do all day.
It is Coco, who really taught us how to parent.
It is Hokie games.
It is dreaming of our children. And the birth of those four children.
It is watching your toddler son recover from a stroke. Learn to roll over again. Learn to sit again. Learn to walk again. Learn to run.
It is the special need of another son. Helping him to hear. To speak. To listen. It is watching him soar.
It is miscarriages.
It is losing Coco.
It is our first home. And leaving our first home.
It is finding our forever home. And trying to rid that forever home of it’s ant infestation.
It is families. And it is saying goodbye to some of those that we hold the most dear.
It is friends. BBQs. Fireworks. Happy hours.
Vacations at the beach. Camping. The cabin.
Spiders in our ears.
Jumping in piles of leaves. And being stung by bees for hours afterward.
Turkeys. Cutting down our Christmas trees. And decorating them.
And Christmas Eve masses.
And paper valentines.
And Easter egg hunts.
And Easter Sunday bonnets and gingham bow ties.
It is spring walks to the river.
It is first steps. First words. Lost teeth.
And oh the tantrums. And the kisses. The hugs. Tears. Laughter.
The soccer games. Baseball games. Football games. Basketball games.
It is coming to compromises. You get your hoop in the driveway…I get my dog.
It is sipping wine on the stoop and together, watching the neighborhood nod off.
It is all the dreams I have of a future with him.
We are different now, thirteen years later. Our life is different. It is not exciting…it is not flashy and new. It is worn, and comfortable and it fits. It is soft. Mostly, this life brings the greatest joys I have ever known.
That is thirteen years.