During my adolescence, I did not attract much attention from boys. I attributed this to the fact that I was not pretty enough, when it was more likely because I was not very self-confident. I never really had a boyfriend during my middle school or high school years, just a few dates here and there. At times, I would get down on myself about this fact, discouraged by the number of boys who seemed interested in my taller, prettier, more outgoing friends. Little did I know, I would be meeting my soul mate very soon.
I met my husband in the Fall of 1999, our freshman year at Lawrence University. We were both members of the cross-country team, so we arrived on campus a few weeks before classes started. Preseason gave us plenty of time to focus on running and getting to know our teammates. Peter and I happened to live in the same dorm. I liked that he didn’t seem arrogant or too full of himself. I had seen him sitting downstairs in the TV lounge before, so I decided to find him and start a conversation. We ended up having pizza together and learning more about each other. As it turned out, our high school cross-country teams had even been at the same meets once or twice!
Our friendship continued to grow, watching a meteor shower together, helping one another with our Pride and Prejudice Freshman Studies papers, and sitting by each other on bus rides to meets. It seemed as though there was mutual interest, but a lot of shyness in the way.
Valentines Day came, and Peter decided he wanted to finally make clear his feelings for me (sort of). He left a greeting card outside my door with a handwritten quote from Pride and Prejudice inside, but signed it “A Secret Admirer.” I was almost certain it was from him, but my history of purely platonic opposite sex relationships made me question it, thus birthing an intense fear of rejection. I said nothing to him about the card, and he said nothing either, each taking it to mean the other was not interested.
We remained in limbo for a while, despite some teasing and heckling from teammates who saw what was blatantly obvious. Finally, one day, we started walking to class together on a perfect sunny day, Peter with his sandals in one hand, when he reached for my hand with his other hand. I grabbed on and never looked back.
He has been the most comforting and life-giving constant in my life. He helped me grow my faith in college rather than turn from it, as can often happen. He came around when I said I wanted actions to show his commitment, not words. I never thought I would be dreaming of my wedding while still in college, but there I was.
Our wedding day, fifteen years ago, was the happiest day of my life (to that point). He has never made me feel like my quirks and flaws are anything to be ashamed of, but are in fact, reasons he adores me. He can make me laugh and smile better than anyone and is the perfect height for resting my head on his chest.
When we had kids, our happiness multiplied and so, it seemed, did our love. It has been amazing to see little parts of him shine through in our kids. He patiently reads to them and teaches them things about life and Star Wars, rides bikes with them, play wrestles, and just has fun. He can sense when I am frustrated or overwhelmed and need a break.
Most of all, he has continued to love me and have faith in our relationship, even when I thought all was lost. He knows how to make me feel safe and loved. Who knows why, but he sometimes looks at me as though I am some divine creation (or maybe he is trying to figure out how to tell me I have something in my teeth?), which is both flattering and a little uncomfortable.
The picture below is from our wedding day. Despite the fact that it was “overexposed,” an error on the part of the photographer, it is one of my favorite pictures from our wedding day. He offered to fix it and send us a new one, but I love it. Our smiles are so genuine and the picture encapsulates the reality of true love. Nothing is ever perfect and sometimes we feel raw, exposed, and vulnerable when we reveal the deep parts of ourselves, but if we focus on the positive and hold onto the memory of where it all started, everything will be alright.
Happy Anniversary, Babe. Always you, only you.
Redefined Runner 