Mike and I met on August 3rd, 1991. Two years and 4 days later – on August 7th, 1993 – we got married. I mention this lest you get confused if, in four days, I make note of an anniversary again. “Didn’t she just talk about that??”

I don’t really have any special posting planned for our wedding anniversary, but I didn’t want to let today go by without at least a brief mention, because 1) It’s been TWENTY years, which is really really cool, and 2) in some ways, I remember the day we met with even more fondness than our wedding. Don’t get me wrong, our wedding was nice and lovely and everything, but I don’t know. I was wearing a big poufy dress, and everyone was looking at me. It’s taken me a long time to admit it, but I’m just not a wedding person. MARRIAGE, I like. Weddings, not so much.

I digress.

But that day we met! When everything was so new and exciting and full of butterflies and hope and promise and all those other mushy things? That’s the stuff of a romance novel right there.

Weren’t we cute?

I first saw him on the porch of the main building at camp.  I liked his eyes.  His friend pointed me out to him, not because he found me in the least attractive, but because “Hey, look.  You can see through that girl’s shorts.”

And The Path Less Taken was born.  Romantic, no?  By the end of that week, we both knew we’d met “The One.”

It drives me crazy when people publicly gush about their spouses (no idea why, probably for the same reason that I don’t like weddings, whatever that is) I don’t want to be the person that announces on Facebook, “20 years ago, I married my best friend.”  But, since it has been twenty years and all….. and twenty years is a big deal….

He’s my rock.  And the love of my life.

And he really is my best friend.