Twenty-three years ago tonight, I met the man who would become my husband. It had been another rainy day in a summer that had proven largely rainy, but that evening the skies cleared and the air was warm and summer felt like it had been righted. Something in my life felt like it had been righted too, and the ease and comfort with which Andy and I immediately started talking felt like a missing piece had fallen into place.
A couple of months after that first meeting we went on our first trip – to Ogunquit, Maine – which has since come to be our favorite place by the sea (and provides the setting for these photos of Andy from our last trip there). While a first trip with anyone can be a daunting and socially anxious time, ours felt easy and right – we fell into our own groove while somehow keeping our own individual rhythms.
The ensuing years brought us on many adventures – other beaches, other vacations, other anniversaries, other sorrows, other birthdays, other laughs, and other days where nothing much happened other than two people sharing a life together. And after all this time, I still get a thrill going through the most mundane and routine things – making a trip to the grocery store, spending a weekend in Boston, or watching an old movie we have seen a hundred times before. Anyone can get along during the fun and exciting times – it’s the ones who find comfort and home in everything that falls in-between those days who come to matter the most. That’s the bulk of life, that’s where all of the real living happens – and I’m lucky and fortunate to have lived most of my adult life with Andy.
Happy Anniversary Drew – I love you.
