I never believed in love at first sight. I was not a romantic, I thought you learned to love someone. That all fell apart when I met him. Or rather when he called me for the first time. We spoke on the phone for an hour. About our kids, our jobs, and hamburger helper. I knew, after that first hour, that there was something special about this guy.
By the end of our first date, which was by no means an amazingly romantic time, I knew. I knew I would marry him. Everyone who saw us together knew we would get married. So 6 months later when he proposed of course I said yes. Me, the non-romantic. The girl who had been referred to by previous boyfriends as cynical about love. I fell head over heels for a guy who live four hours away from me. By the time we got engaged we had been on 2 dates without our children.
But what I knew early on in our relationship, was this was a guy who was genuine. He listened to me, he liked me for who I was, and stuck it out when things were hard in his life. I knew he made me laugh harder than anyone, and that when I was with him it felt like coming home. That is love.
Tomorrow marks eight years of marriage. Things have not always been easy for us, we have gone through a lot of pain and loss, a lot of challenges and trials. Things have been bad. But they have also been good. There has been lots of laughter and love too. I feel blessed to have found this man with whom I share my life and my family. I never doubt the way he feels about me, and not a phone conversation or kiss good-night goes by without him telling me that he loves me.