This is how we started out, after “I do”s were said, rice was thrown, gifts were opened and a long white satin dress was cleaned and stored away:
In a small apartment with little to call our own, our table for two was sometimes the couch with an old wooden box we called a coffee table pulled close with two dinner plates on top. We cooked together and did dishes side-by-side. It was perfect for two.
We both worked so hard all week, so on the weekends we hung out together, ran errands, tried to exercise, watched TV and just spent so much time together.
I can barely remember how that felt.
For about seven years, we just enjoyed being us. Then we became a family, and life was never quite the same. The craziness and fun of new parenthood was so much better sharing it with someone I loved so much. I knew he would be such an amazing daddy. One kid, then two, add in a few dogs and cats just to keep things lively. We ran full-force into this parenthood thing, and it was nothing short of incredible. Incredibly hard at times, but still incredible.
Twenty-eight years later, we sit more often at that table for two again: not the couch, but our massive dining-room table, made to seat a crowd, not just two.
Our son is busy with college, work and friends. His 17-year-old sister is busy with work, school and BFFs. This is what we hoped for, what we planned for all of those years in between: for our kids to be healthy, happy, busy and doing what they want with their lives.
And they are.
Now, when we are alone and the house is quiet, I am remembering so many little reasons why I said yes all those years ago. Why it was so important to keep the you and I part right there with the Mom and Dad part.
Because eventually we are back at the table for two.
And I wouldn’t want to be sitting with anyone else.
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