Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs (An anniversary post)

March 10 - The first date

Two people meet. They’re polar opposites. She comes from a huge family. He’s an only child. She’s outgoing and vivacious. He is introverted and serious. She is creative and he is logical. Her sarcastic streak is legendary. His sincerity can’t be questioned. They share the same silly nature, the same fierce loyalty, the same big-heartedness.

Two people meet. Their differences bring them together. Their chemistry is undeniable. Some people don’t understand it. Some people question them, maybe think they’re moving too fast. Some people think there’s no chance this will last.

Some people didn’t know what they were talking about.

He was dating someone else when they met. Luckily for them (and for my sister and I!) that fizzled out – I like to think fate had a hand in that. In November of 1978, they began a flirtation that would build until they finally went on their first date in March.

May, about a week before getting engaged

Two months and three days after their first date, they got engaged. On May 13, my father asked my mother to spend the rest of her life with him. She forgot to say yes, too swept up in the joy of the moment.

Four months and just over two weeks later, they were married. It was a simple wedding, but the love in the room must have been obvious for anyone to see. They were both glowing – radiant, even.

Several months later, they welcomed their first daughter. Two years and three months after that, they had their second. It was a family that struggled with the things all families deal with, but above everything else, it was a family that loved each other fiercely. It was a home where two little girls grew up seeing what a family could be, and looking forward to the day when they could have their own. It was a home where even though the parents fought sometimes, they never walked away. They cared enough to stick it out. It was a partnership.  

September 28, 1979

Thirty-one years later, they are still madly in love. They still turn to each other when one of their songs comes on the radio, exchanging a secret look. They still call each other by nicknames developed decades ago. They still instinctively grasp hands when walking through the grocery store. They still have their little spats, and they still figure out a way to work through them. They still remember every anniversary – first kiss, first date, the day they got engaged, and of course, the day they said “I do.” They’re still in it. For the long haul.

Two people meet. They take a chance. They start a life.

Thirty-one years later, they’ve raised two daughters. Both of those daughters are strong, and smart, and happy. They both could be accused of being picky – of thinking that no one is good enough for them.

But those two daughters? They know that’s not the case.

October 2008

They just know what love can look like. And they’re not willing to settle. Because for their entire lives, they’ve seen what real love can be. And they won’t stop looking until they find that.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. Thanks for teaching me about love, about life, and about holding out for something spectacular. And thanks for giving me and Sara an example that we can look up to – an example of how while love isn’t always easy, it’s always worth it.