Fourteen years ago, on a perfect morning as the leaves were changing to orange, gold and red, I married the woman of my dreams in a outdoor ceremony in upstate New York.
Two kids, more moves than I can count through two states, a cancer scare, and tons more drama later, I’m still amazed by her smile, her sparkling blue eyes, her courage, warmth, patience, and most of all, her kind heart and sharp mind.
Years ago, when we first started dating, we were in the car with her parents, riding in the back seat. I was holding her hand, and had just recently started saying those “three little words” to her, and it was so new that each time was like a jolt of excitement.
I recall (properly, I hope) that I looked at her, the goofy grad student I was, totally smitten, and squeezed her hand gently once, then four times, then three more. She looked at me quizzically for a moment, then she smiled.
She squeezed my and hand back gently once, then four times, then three more, and three more again.
Thanks for 14 wonderful years, Chris.
We’re just getting started.