The Day We First Met

Nine years ago today I met my husband (well, he wasn’t my husband back then) for the first time. We spent the summer of 2001 writing long e-mails to each other. Every. Single. Day. Then, in December, my handsome friend from St Louis just felt he had to attend his second cousin’s wedding. The rest, as they say, is history.

We spent a wonderful 10 days visiting historic places, eating out, meeting friends. And talking. For hours on end. Just the two of us,  in my car, accompanied by a howling wind  (a north-easterly this time – the one we call the gregale) and lashing rain. I remember everything so clearly – the warm glow of a first kiss, and the cold air that made our fingers and noses numb (it actually got cold that year with temperatures plummeting to 3 Celsius during the day – like I said, I remember everything :))

Nine years later, we’ve weathered a few storms, but that warm, fuzzy feeling is still there. And my sweet husband still manages to surprise me with flowers every now and then.