nineteen years and counting

Yesterday my husband and I celebrated our 19th anniversary. This milestone is not in observance of the day we first met, we had actually met a few weeks earlier, but it is a celebration of the day we first defined our relationship and by “defined our relationship” I mean it was the day our platonic long walks became less about walking and decidedly not platonic[1].

Nowadays, a word that makes me sound much older than my 41 years, everyone meets online. They swipe right. But in the pre-internet world of 1997 my husband and I met the old fashioned way – at the grocery store. I was working as a clerk and he was a customer, or rather, he was buying and I was selling.

It was something at first sight and within six months we were living together.

Quite a lot has happened since that day I slipped a schoolgirl’s note into my future husband’s bag of groceries. The world has changed. We have changed. We’re unfortunately older. We’re hopefully wiser. We’re definitely fatter.

From there to here he and I have made more than a few missteps and, like all long term couples, we have survived our fair share of (un)natural disasters, the least of which being my propensity towards self-sabotage and imperfection.

But we’re still here.

Yesterday after we had dropped our sons off at school I said to my husband, “Who could have imagined nineteen years ago that this would be our life?”

Certainly not me.


[1] For the record it was a kiss. Todd’s not that kind of girl.

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