I had just come back from using the restroom when I was ambushed. One guy grabbed my ankles, the other my arms. They carried me, kicking and screaming, to the near by river. The one at my feet started laughing so hard he let me go. The one at my arms quickly pulled me back and kept me from falling in the cold water.
It wasn’t easy to avoid the blue-eyed boy that had both threatened and saved me that day. He was in half of my classes that 8th grade year. And he sat next to me in each one.
Little did I know that dark and mysterious boy would be there to catch me time and time again.
I told myself countless times, whenever we would fight, that he wasn’t worth the tears. That there was no reason to believe it would last. You don’t don’t grow up to marry the boy you met in middle school.
As we got older, there were times I was certain that we’d grown apart. How could he possibly be the same boy I fell in love with? We didn’t like the same music. We didn’t have the same hobbies. And I wasn’t even sure we had the same plans for our future.
I thought about all of the amazing times we’d had together. The nights spent talking on the phone late at night. The tickles and kisses we’d shared. Concerts, movies, and dinners. Family parties and weddings. Trips up north. And all the things he’d taught me, because he wanted me by his side. Fishing, hunting, how to ride a motorcycle.
But there had always been something missing. And I was terrible at telling him about it.
I wanted to have a child. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted him to show the patience and understanding that he’d always shown me, to our son or daughter.
It took so much of my strength to finally tell him what I needed. That as much as I loved him, I never wanted to hate him for regretting the biggest mistake of my life. I told him I was leaving.
And then one night, we both fell into a heap in each other’s arms. Neither one of us was willing to let the other go.
We’ve come along way catching each other when we needed it. And soon we’ll be chasing after a hyperactive little boy of our own who will fall and need to be caught.
18 years after our first kiss, the first time we both fell, today we finally tied the knot. There was no fancy ceremony, no cake. Just Mike and I, our witnesses, and a piece of paper to make it legal. It wasn’t that we didn’t want you all there to share in our moment, but we felt it would be best to get the technicalities out of the way now, and later next year, when we’ve all settled into our new roles and mommy and daddy, we’ll have a celebration of our new family.