thirteen years later . . .

You think 13 years is a long time.  It’s not.  It goes by so quickly.

This is me.

 

 

Yesterday, I watched my oldest son prepare to go to a week of football camp.  His dad helped him adjust his shoulder pads, and I looked on in awe at this young man who stared back at me . . . just then it hit, and it hit hard.  It was all I could do to hold myself together.  Stefan saw it, and he shot me this look that said, “Woman! Keep your —bleep— together!”  I had to leave the room.  It was too much.  It has gone too fast.

 

Today, Stefan and I are celebrating our anniversary.  .  I feel like it was just yesterday that Stefan and I were holding hands on the bus, making out in the high school parking lot, dreaming of running away to New Jersy.  We were just kids.  We were just two kids in love . . . we didn’t have a thought about anyone else but ourselves . . . We thought we were “it.”

 

 

 

 

 

And now, thirteen years later, I think it’s all still true . . . we are “it!”  We are head over heels, but our hands are full of dirty diapers and bottles, schedules and report cards, shampoo and dandelion bouquets.  We are crazy in love, but we are lucky if we get a good kiss in before we fall into bed at night.  Our dreams of running away have become more vivid and only include places where the water is turquoise and the sand is white. And, it seems, that no longer is life just about us.  . . . but somewhere along the road, life became about something else.

 

Here’s a little look into our lives . . .thirteen years later.

 

 

 

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