We met at a concert and it’s almost an age test to see who remembers the bands who played: The Mighty Lemondrops and Material Issue. I get very reminiscent with I hear “Inside Out” and “Valerie Loves Me.”
When we tell the story, each of us leave out details we don’t like, but the main point is this: it was a condemned bar and Bryan was moving back to Baltimore the very next day. The company I worked for was hiring and I gave him my number under that pretense. But we both knew there was something there, even then.
We dated for about a year before taking a road trip around the country, with the unwritten understanding that we were searching for THE place. Somewhere to move to. Somewhere different than Maryland.
We hit Denver and knew almost immediately. I remember calling my mother from a 7-11 pay phone and telling her we had decided to move out west within six months and she told me I couldn’t so loud I had to hold the ear piece away. Bryan heard her and smiled. He knew she would be upset, but he also knew it was something we needed to do.
Fast forward to January 1994 when we arrived in Denver. In some ways, this is the start of our life together. We’d picked up and moved across the country alone. We barely knew anyone in Colorado, and had no jobs. We had to rebuild from the ground up.
We got jobs, got married, got a house and a baby. We got sick, we got well, we got new experiences. We got ups and downs. We got kicked and kicked ass. All this time later, we still look at each other every day and say I love you, and mean it. We got lucky.
We also work hard to make the most of each other. To play to each others’ strengths, to forgive the weaknesses. Most importantly, find the humor in it all.
Eighteen years of marriage feels like a blink of an eye, really. I look forward to the next eighteen together and all the time in the world after that.