The beginning of us

Capable Dad had been working outside all morning, trying to trim back the trees, rake up the leaves and get the yard ready for the cold winter that is on its way.

I was carrying my tenth basket of laundry up the stairs so I could spread it out on our bed and organize the mass of clean clothes into neat piles of t-shirts, socks and underwear. We crossed paths in the middle of the kitchen. He was on his way to the basement to retrieve some random tool. I was balancing the white laundry basket on my hip.

He gave me that half smile. His eyes were laughing, as if to say, “Can you believe this is how we spend our Saturdays?”

He didn’t need to say a word. I heaved my basket up the stairs, thinking about how far we’ve come. Thinking about our life before. When weekends meant sleeping late. Taking unplanned trips to Wisconsin. Going out to dinner and watching movies.

Remembering when life was so much more.

Before we owned a home. Before we were parents. Before we had four kids. Before we had mountains of laundry and school work with the kids and closets to clean and faucets to repair and a lawn to maintain.

Remembering when life was so much less.

It made me think back to the beginning. I guess that’s normal when an anniversary comes around. It’s always fun to remember the beginning. And so, in honor of ours, which happens to be on Tuesday, I thought I would write it down.


It’s always hard to answer when people ask us how we met.

I mean, I guess we probably knew each other back in the days of Little League or Junior League Football or BMX racing. I know he had to have been on a team with my brother or played on a field nearby at some point, but I don’t really remember.

Maybe it was in our Communications 4 class in high school. We were two among a graduating class of 151 and yet, strangely enough, that’s the only class I remember ever having together. I’m sure there had to have been more than that.

I guess you could say our relationship started with our first date down in Mississippi.

But both of us always tell the story the same way.

It started with a lie.

To be continued…


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