This first week in August is the 30 year anniversary of the beginning of dearest one and my relationship. I was 14 and he 16 when I submitted my name for the "penpals wanted" section of our prairie farm newspaper. Ten girls answered my little bio and one lone male. Pretty cool, eh? It's a bit of a long story how we went from there to marriage 5 years later and how we will soon be celebrating 25 years of marriage. God and grace, love and indifference, joy and sorrow. The stuff the human journey is full of is our story as well.
This past weekend spent celebrating my parents 50th wedding anniversary was good. At one point dearest one was on his way out the door for a quick trip into the city when I realized he hadn't given me a kiss goodbye. I dashed out the door and caught up to him as the van was about to back up. "Where's my kiss?" I called. Youngest son and one niece got to see that "old people" can still kiss up a storm. Ha.
I still remember the day I received his first letter. The mail carrier came three days a week back then. On this particular day the mail was late due to our regular mailman being on holidays and his replacement having a hard time following the route. It was one of those beautiful calm summer evenings, the sun just starting to kiss the horizon. I remember walking to the house reading dearest ones' letter. Funny how clear some memories are.
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