“Remember that time…”
When you know a person so well, you begin to develop your own language. Memories, highlights, challenges, woven together into an ever-growing tapestry of life together.
…we worked together for a summer?
…we didn’t talk for 3 years?
…we got married?
…we had a miserable vacation in San Francisco? and Gatlinburg?
…we had a great vacation in San Diego? and Emerald Isle?
…we got to work together for 3+ years?
This year marks five years of married life together. It also marks ten years since we met.
…we had lunch with our team at Fuddrucker’s? (I don’t)
…we had lunch with our team at a restaurant in Martinsville? (she doesn’t)
It was not always like this. We were not always “together” in these ten years.
After the summer we met, I very nearly ignored her for 2 years. The occasional conversation or Christmas-time well wishes broke the silence, but these were only cursory “hello’s.”
For reasons we can only speculate, my name came into her mind one day, and I invited her to a basketball game. The rest, as they say, is history.
We remember our first “date” to the basketball game and our second first date to the Black History Museum and a walk around the mall to catch up. My first trip to Roanoke, with lunch at Firehouse and the dinner she fixed.
We remember the day we were married and the day T was born.
And we remember, at the end of the day, the smallest, funniest details of life together each day.
Five years of “remembering that time.” It’s a beautiful thing.
Thanks, wife, for five great years of marriage and ten years of memories.
