Years

We met at Lollapalooza on August 10th,1994 in Bayfront Park, Miami.  I was a hot mess.  Hair up, keys tied around my neck, cut off jeans shorts, red low tops and a white Hanes undershirt, rendered see through by the mist tent.  He was tall, dark and handsome, with luscious red lips and curly hair.  Apart from jeans, I have no idea what he was wearing.  It didn’t matter, I was smitten.  We were each so many things, but mostly we were young.

Fast forward to an attached garage in suburban Chicago, September 13th, 2012.  He’s painting, and I’m watching him.  Sometimes I read to him as he paints.  Sometimes I just watch.  This is how we spend most of our free time.  We like it this way. We are no longer young.  We have children rapidly approaching the age we were when we met.

So many years have passed, not all of which have been easy.  I am still in love, which amazes me, and I’m fairly certain, he is too.  We have become so many things.  Mostly, we are grateful.  Grateful for the years.

S