Friday, August 06, 2010


[Here is Mr. C. a year and a half ago, carving our initials in a library table.]

A week after my first date with Mr. C., we walked to the campus library to study. It was the last week of January, there was slush on the ground and light snow falling, but I didn't notice the cold. Instead, I felt the warmth of the rather large, still somewhat foreign hand whose fingers were laced with mine. As we walked, we talked about how I was going to drive to Salt Lake that night to see two of my closest friends.

One of them, a girl named Jayne, was about to get engaged. Since I was certain I was a long ways off from being engaged, I talked freely with Mr. C. about friends getting married and how it often meant you never saw them again. As the conversation progressed, Mr. C. brought up that every relationship needed to be balanced with friends. I agreed and we made a pact to always make time for our friends and not just be obsessed with each other.

After we stationed ourselves in the library, Mr. C. pulled his chair next to mine and I twisted my legs with his. From there, we began to have two of the most vivid non-studying hours of my entire life. I acted like I studied as Mr. C. played me some love songs I had never heard on his computer, as he ran his hand down my back, and as I sat, basking in a form of adoration I had never experienced.

I went to Jayne's that night, where we were quickly joined by Katie. We sat in the kitchen and then moved to the basement as I shamelessly texted Mr. C. and Jayne denied that she was about to get engaged (which she was, but she wanted it to be a surprise so we pretended to believe her). I giddily talked about Andrew and how he was different than anyone I had ever dated. They agreed with me, without meeting him, because they'd never seen me respond to a relationship the way I was responding to this new one. After a few hours and some goofy mirror pictures, I drove home, texting until my fingers felt numb.

Back in Provo, I walked into my apartment and Mr. C. walked in five minutes later, having ditched his Man Night where they were watching some movie where everyone has a weapon. I sat on his lap on the couch and we talked about how good we were for still being social with our friends even though it was so hard to be away from each other, if only for a few hours. (Should I mention here that Mr. C. had actually been at work most of the night anyway?)

That was the last night I hung out with any of my friends when Mr. C. was free, meaning our pact we made that morning was never enforced (just ask our friends!).

I guess what I'm trying to say is that ever since I met Mr. C., my life has been a whirlwind. A happy whirlwind, but a whirlwind nonetheless. If I had been told two years ago that today I would be sitting on the couch on a Friday night, covered in blankets and spit up while my babe (fathered by a boy I had only seen once) fights waking up, I would have laughed, both out of disbelief and also because that kind of life would have seemed idealistic to me, despite the fact that I had a million other dreams and plans for my future.

Every stage of life is a phase and sometimes we don't appreciate it until we are done with it. I don't have many regrets about my life, if anything I regret that I sometimes wished I could fast forward time to see where I would be in x amount of years, but I guess I've just been thinking about time lately. Ever since Max was born, my days and nights have run together more than I ever thought possible, and I wonder if the rest of my life is going to go as quickly as the past month has, not to mention how fast the time has gone since January 23, 2009.

Maybe it will, maybe it won't... I just hope I don't blink and miss it before I appreciate it.
Oh, and I hope that Mr. C. always makes my heart pound like he did when we first met. Because he still does- make my heart pound, that is.