Dear little one,
Today, while you were napping your little heart out, your dad came home for lunch. As we do often, we talked about the past, and our plans for the future. In this iteration of our usual talk, we discussed going to Amsterdam with you sometime in the next few years, and looked up resorts in Portugal that are both family-friendly and near the ocean. We also talked about how we were lucky enough to meet one another so early in life.Though we’ve seen one another make more mistakes than either of us care to acknowledge, we also have dozens of great memories from the last ten years.
Like the time we stood outside Gordon Commons, and the wind blew the leaves around us in swirls while we hugged. At the time, I remarked that I felt like we were in a movie, the cliché ending where the lovers embrace while the camera pans all 360 degrees, before doing a close-up on the kiss.
Or the time we went to a dance club just down the street from our apartment. I left early with your dad’s keys, and when he was leaving, he saw my purse hanging in the coat check. After arguing with him for a bit, your dad gave the bouncer $20 for my purse. Once your dad was outside our apartment, he realized that the haggling was not in vain, since I was already home and deeply asleep (some day you will understand). His chivalry saved him a cold night on the porch.
There were many times we walked through new snow on campus, the whole world muted by the soft, white flakes. (That first thick snowfall is the only thing I loved about Madison in the winter.) I’d call your dad and say, “Let’s go marching.” We’d start walking, not knowing where we were headed, and taking turns picking, left, right, or straight. We’d talk about our plans for school, and the people in our lives, and later, when we both knew we’d eventually get married, we’d talk about our plans for a family.
Just before you were born, we also went on many walks. These walks were similar: we’d discuss our plans for work, and you, and our marriage. We’d plan for the future while reminiscing the past. We rarely walked the same loop, because I read somewhere that taking a different route when walking/driving somewhere familiar helps ward off Alzheimer’s. These walks were punctuated by the heat, but we pressed through to burn off the nervous energy. We were so excited that you were coming, but we knew we’d have our hands full.
And boy, have you delivered. You’re full of attitude. You’re all smiles, as long as you’re entertained. Boredom rivals hunger for what aggravates you the most. You want to hang out with me, unless I’m holding you and dad’s in sight. And as I predicted as soon as I could feel you moving around, we’re in deep trouble the minute you can move on your own. You’re a lot of fun, and a lot of work, and I’m so very glad that your dad and I had all those years (and walks) together before you arrived. We’d be in over our heads otherwise.
I love you, little one. I look forward to walks with you, whether here or in Amsterdam.