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The summer of 1991 is a distant memory these days. James and I had been dating for just a few months---well, I guess you can call it dating. It was more like a lot of me sneaking into his basement bedroom in his parents' house in the middle of the night (Tommy, please don't read this!) and of us "parking" on deserted gravel roads in the middle of Folly Mills. I won't go into details, but we certainly weren't looking for the Big Dipper---ummm, wait...maybe one of us was. I don't really remember us going out to too many places---I remember a Steven Seagal movie in the theater and a trip to King's Dominion, which is where these pictures were taken, in one of those cheesy photo booths. The photos were almost ruined when we went on some water ride--they were in the pocket of my shorts--which is why the quality here isn't the best.
I was recently having a discussion with someone about that first euphoric feeling of having to spend every second with someone that you really like/love. Obviously it was that way for us, if I was climbing out my basement bedroom window to drive the two miles to his parents' house and tiptoe into their basement. I vividly remember that, "oh sh*t" feeling of thinking we were caught a few times, even though we were both past the age of consent (I was 19, he was 22), but we brazenly ignored the risk just to be together. Was that love or lust? Maybe a little of both--in fact, probably more lust than love at that point.
We got married less than a year after this photo was taken--both of us were probably much too young, stupid, and poor to even think about getting married, but we did it anyway. We sort of lived life as it came, paycheck to paycheck, not really thinking too much about what we were doing or where life was heading. And we had fun. We did a lot of great things back then, either just the two of us or with Mark & Angie, and we had a blast just being together.
In spite of the exhilaration of young love and our early years together, I wouldn't go back in time for anything in the world, other than to erase a few tragic mistakes and come right back. Our life together with Andrew is too precious, too special. But what I do want to hold onto, and sometimes find it difficult to even remember in the hectic day-to-day routines when we're both doing our best to keep our heads above water, is that feeling that the world doesn't matter as long as we are together. We definitely tend to take each other for granted--naturally, our expectations for our relationship are certainly different than they were in 1991. It often seems that people get that type of relationship back later in their lives--after kids are grown and gone, job demands slow down, etc., and it once again becomes just the two of you. Is it possible to deal with life and hold on to that, or at least reclaim some of it? It's not New Year's, I know--September's an odd time for resolutions--but I'd like to challenge myself, and James, to try. I'll keep you posted--as long as it doesn't involve parking on deserted roads and "stargazing." --T