First Date

Sixteen years ago tonight, Steve and I had our first date. He picked me up in a grey/maroon truck and took me to a Chinese restaurant.

I remember exactly what I wore (and how long it took me to pick it out).

I don't remember what I ate, but I remember much of the conversation. We haven't eaten in a Chinese restaurant since that the conversation doesn't come back to me.

I remember the ride home. Hard is it is to believe, it was very cold and we had to wait for the truck to warm up so we could defrost the windows.

I remember feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world, at least to Steve.

I also remember the butterflies in my stomach - afraid I'd say the wrong thing, afraid I wouldn't.

Last night, I asked Steve if he ever expected, that night, that we'd be together sixteen years later and he said no. He didn't expect there to be a second date.

But I knew. (I just didn't expect Will and Linden to show up along the way.)

Tonight was spent bathing and bouncing a fussy baby, helping Will with homework, fixing and eating dinner. By the time seven came around, the entire family was worn out and on the way to bed. I got a hug and kiss as I headed to the nursery with Linden. Some might not have considered it a fitting celebration, but it was exactly right for us.