We were together.
I forget the rest.
Twelve years ago today, (TWELVE!) I got a new boyfriend named Will. One of us remembers the moment as a rainy night, the other swears it was it was sunny. We were on our cordless phones talking to each other in our respective parent’s homes when we decided it – and honestly, I can’t remember who brought it up. It could have been me, because I was all about “I GET WHAT I WANT WHEN I WANT IT” at that point in my life. I’m not sure, I can’t remember.
I guess time distorts some of those memories you think will always remain crystal clear. When we talk about the first time we met, Will pointed out that it wasn’t the first time we saw eachother. He can remember exactly what I was wearing and where we were at the first time he saw me – we were only 15. I can remember the occasion but I don’t remember him, which I take as proof that this didn’t actually happen because HOW COULD I NOT NOTICE HIM?? Have you seen Will? That just doesn’t seem possible.
We argue over whether our first dance was the time he played “No Woman No Cry” at Chase’s house and we danced alone in a little room together while our friends were outside chatting, or, if it was the time he pulled over his car on a dirt road at night and made me get out and dance with him in the dark.
We will ask each other “which place were we living at when XYZ happened?” or “what wedding/bar/road trip/friend’s house were we at when …”. We can’t remember when we officially decided to move in together. If we didn’t have our wedding on video, neither of us would have any memory of what we said in our vows. I’m sure we will look back on our first year as parents and have some gaping, sleep-deprived holes of memory.
But we were together. I can forget the rest.