I sat on the plane next to a young gal, mid-twenties she would tell me later, who reminded me a lot of myself at her age. Realizing “her age” wasn’t so far gone, but knowing it was still long enough away to form distant memories and wistful longings in my mind.

“You’re married? With two kids? When did you get married?” she asks with wide brown eyes and a smile that reaches her ears.

“When I was 26. But I knew him for years and years. He was my best friend.” I reply trying to condense our 13 year pre-story in to a sentence.

“How did you know he was the ONE?” she asks.

“I knew.”

I hated that answer when I was her age.

But the truth is, my husband is the single person in the world I don’t get sick of the more time I’m around him. We fight, sure, we drive each other completely batty sometimes, we annoy the everlivingshit out of the other one, but I can’t stand not having him around.

The house is so much… less… without him.

Everything is so much .... less… without him.

Together we’ve worked through graduate school, birthing and raising two babies, and passing one (soon to be two) engineering exams. We’ve purchased houses, sold houses, and moved 5 times as a family.

And that’s just since marriage.

Let’s discount the 20 years we’ve known each other and the 14 years it took to make that commitment in the first place.

So when we decided, together, to buy a new house and take advantage of a sticky situation with some benefits of “the current market,” we knew it could take a while.

I mean, comon, the guy can’t buy a trashcan without a spreadsheet.

Imagine my shock, then, when we go for a drive at our lunch hour to “scope out the neighborhood” we’d ideally love to live, and find our dream.

I’ve never felt this way about a house before.

He clearly never has either.

Or a person for that matter.

We walk around noting the emptiness. We walk all over the grounds, picturing the children playing and each other fixing up the yard. We talk about where we would put the furniture as we peer through the spider-web windows.

It’s so…... “Up” ..... in a way.

The house is ours from first sight. We’re not sure about financing yet, if the foundation is sound, if we can even do this. But for some reason, this particular house, this one time in our lives, there isn’t s spreadsheet, a lengthy discussion, a hesitation.

This one time I got to see my husband fall in love on first sight.

And I was right there with him falling in love, too.

I hope we found our home.

Our home.

Something tells me this is “it.”

I just know.


Posted: 8/10/2009