I think I was about twenty when I met James. My car had been hit by a deer (yes, it is my contention the deer hit ME) and had already been in the shop for two weeks. I was at the mercy of my roommate's social calendar if I wanted to do ANYthing. I'd just painted my nails, and she was about to make the 25-minute drive to her boyfriend's house and wanted me to tag along and meet his roommate. Ew, a blind date. Blech. "No, my nails aren't dry," I whined. She rolled her eyes and after several back and forths ("he's really sweet, and cute, and we already told him you're coming; he wants to meet you…" etc after etc), I finally agreed to go.
Half an hour later, I was staring at the white door of a run-down apartment complex, waiting to see what this guy was really like. I'll skip to the end first – we didn't click at all. He was quiet (too quiet), reserved, very Caucasian (the kind that doesn't tan), and quiet. We really didn't like each other. Looking back, he recalls that I was
cute. But too loud. And direct. Not very girly. But something I do remember from that first night was the moment he opened that grungy white door – how very blue and twinkly sweet his eyes were.
There is nothing super important about that moment, except that now I remember it as the first moment of a night that was really UNspectacular. An evening we really don't remember much about, but that changed our lives forever.
I can't tell you how many times I look at my little girls (eta: and sweet Cam) and there I am again – my future husband at the door. It makes me smile. How two people at one point in time had NO clue that 12 years into the future they'd share a history of loss, war, several moves across the country, two children, and another pleasant surprise on the way…It tickles me every time.