1992

Yesterday, I saw that Rob was tagged in a facebook photo from one of his friends from high school. It was during a stint as a best man, and the date on it was 1992, the year we met. It brought back a rush of fond memories: that awkward and exciting getting-to-know-you phase, that not so awkward first kiss, those many hours up late on the phone with each other... It's hard to imagine a me that didn't know him, but there it was, the most familiar face to me at a time I didn't have it in memory (at least consciously ;-)). In short and of course, it got me all emotional.

Just then the boys got home from karate and ran into the office, and immediately laughed, seemingly with incredulity, at the sight of their dad so... um... how to say such nicely? Unseasoned? They can be blunt; I told Rob at least they don't keep drawing him as bald. I'm not bald!

Anyway, I told them that was their dad when I first met him, and I went over a short version of the story they already know. Alan then asked to see what I looked like at that same time, in that adorable putting-together-a-narrative way he has. The only photo from that year I could find was my high school senior photo, but that worked great; at least we were both in formal wear and both just months before we met.
Looking at them side-by-side I'm struck by both the mystery and fate those 1992 faces hold for us (that, and by the 1990's hair).

We didn't know each other when those non-digital cameras snapped those images. In fact, we both thought we'd never be able have what we have today. But in a matter of months everything would fall into place and our union would never stop growing from there. In a matter of years we'd be changing diapers and rocking our boys to sleep, something that would have struck me, at least, about as possible as the US electing a racial minority for a president in 2008.

Thank goodness for the ignorance of young adults, right? It leaves room for some great surprises.