A small update of big changes over many years...

Right now I'm babysitting for a colleague-friend who has become a role model for me in what kind of mother I wish to be (someday). She writes the most consistent and calming blog every single day and manages to capture moments and moods without my past level of verbosity (which, reading back through past posts, can be overwhelming to read). But it inspired me to post again here, a journal long-forgotten, one of the vanishing websites that sit with no change over years and years; you visit them and find that nothing is currently relevant and wonder how the owner could be so negligent! The internet is a place for timeliness and responsible updating, you think. So that is how I know that everyone who's ever read this has stopped checking for new messages. My link on friends' blogs has long ago been removed (because they do update their pages). My thoughts sat apparently dormant here, frozen in time for two and a half years ago.

At that time I was trying to keep myself busy over my summer vacation, finishing a handmade bridesmaid dress for a friend's wedding and looking forward to the trip. After reading that last post, I can remember, vividly, how I felt at the time... highly self-reflective, bent on self-improvement, not knowing what the future would bring. I clearly remember my trip to Chicago that I mentioned, and riding back on the train with my dad. We sat in the second floor lounge of train, with domed windows allowing for views of rural Wisconsin, and I spread out the final pieces of my dress on the vinyl table inside our booth. I finished sewing it together that day and it was beautiful: exactly the fit- a tight bodice- and colors- chocolate outside, lilac inside- that would look perfect at Angie's special day.

After I got back, I "met" a man (we were connected). We talked a little and I remember emailing him that I worried about the quality of my stitching on the dress and was worried it might spontaneously fall off during the upcoming ceremony. He thought that was hilarious. It didn't, thankfully. When I got back, I felt the need for a big change. My hair had grown all the way down my back and was almost long enough to sit on. It was time to donate it to Locks of Love again. I needed my mom to sit with me in the salon to give me the courage to do it. In the end, she cut off 17 inches! And my hair was a bob, just past my chin, which I adored.

The next day, I had finally arranged the first date with the man. We were going to see a movie in the park, but it started to rain an hour before we were to meet, so I emailed him that we should go to my favorite restaurant, Saffron, instead. (He firmly believes that you shouldn't go to a fancy restaurant for dinner on the first date... my last-minute change didn't give him a choice!). I curled up my hair into a sassy & wild bob and wore my black halter dress and copper sandals. I couldn't remember where was best to park by the restaurant, though, so I was 25 minutes late! I ran the last block, slowed as I approached the restaurant, and saw, standing formidably on the steps, the most handsome man I'd ever seen. My heart stopped. I knew in that instant that the game had changed. All rules- you know, about the first date? the future?- flew out of my head because it didn't matter anymore. Honestly, I remember having all these thoughts as I sashayed toward him.

And the game did change. I fell in love. After our first date, he lost his job, but he stayed in the tundra with me. In December, on a particularly heavy commute to work, I ran into another car after it slammed on the breaks on the highway. My arm was burned by the airbag and my car was totaled. He picked me up and drove me to the repair shop, where he met my mom. I was practically crying, filling out the police report and trying to figure out what I would do. I turned around to look at him behind me and he smiled and gave me a kiss- a hershey kiss that he'd taken from the jar on the counter. That's when I first knew.

We went to Washington, D.C. after Christmas and he took me on a running tour of Georgetown, where he went to college. After the run, we sat together in his favorite sandwich shop, singing along quietly to classic '80's rock playing over the speakers, and I looked across the table and the feeling was stronger.

He loved me first (to my knowledge) on Valentine's Day in Santa Fe. I gave him a book of photos of us for our 6-month anniversary. And he said it. And I finally could, too.

As I sit here now, it's a week until our 28-month anniversary. In that time, I've left for 6 weeks in Spain, we've gone to Hawaii, Milwaukee, Austin, San Antonio, and Boston, he left to find a job (11 months ago), got a job in New York City, and we spent the summer together there, sharing his apartment. I will fly back there, to him, on Christmas day, when we'll go to Rockefeller Center to see the tree.

This summer, I'm moving to where he is. It's time we were together. So everything will change except us.

And obviously my style of blog can't and won't change. I will always be a person who shares with more words than necessary. They flowed out of my mind today like snow, and will lay gently here, pure and white and undisturbed, until someone treads here again. I suppose that person is you.