In November 1989, I met a boy. He was really a boy – only 16 at the time. We met at a mall and I thought he was a complete stuck up jerk.
Four months later, that boy and I started hanging out a lot, neither of us admitting that we had a ridiculous crush on each other. We would drive around in his old beat up VW Rabbit. I’d hang around while he delivered pizzas. He’d meet me after school. After spending hours together, we would call each other and talk on the phone for a few hours more. Neither of us were savvy enough to know how to move beyond this weird friendship thing or how to declare feelings without being embarrassed.
On March 11, 1990, I guess I couldn’t take it anymore – and I just told him to kiss me.
And today, here we are, celebrating our 10-year anniversary and 20 years together. We’ve lived in two cities together. We drove halfway across the country in a small Honda Civic hatchback, all our belongings in a car, and returned back to Vancouver 13 years later with two kids in tow and a moving truck full of enough stuff to fill a three-bedroom house. We’ve lived in six different places together. We’ve launched and shut down businesses. We’ve grown up together.
I can honestly say that I love this man more than ever before. That each day I am thankful that he is in my life, for the beautiful children I’ve had with him and for life that we’ve shared together. I can’t imagine any other way.
May you all have a wonderful Thursday and enjoy the rest of your Spring break with the little ones.