A letter

We’re turning ten. Old love.

In New York Summer on June 18, 2015 at 12:43 pm


I know we are too young for this to be true, but it’s no lie. David and I are turning ten! It’s our ten-year anniversary. I can remember it like yesterday. We smiled, laughed, cried, and danced our hearts out. It seems impossible that ten years have come and gone—for all of us—but it has. We’re those people young people meet, and think to themselves, they are old, they’ve been married a long time, and they have kids. I used to think it. Didn’t you? I would tell them if I could that life is more beautiful now. I’d tell them that old love is gold. They might not believe me, but I don’t want to go back in time. Happier days are not behind me.  They are with me now.  I’m living them.

We were such babes, and I don’t just mean how we looked. And, we were madly in love in the most authentic of ways.  Everyone knew.  I’m glad.  Not many people fall in love the way we did, and in my book it’s just perfect. Funny how we find ourselves back in New York thirteen years later going to church just down the street from where we met. We might have to pop in the lobby of the New Yorker tonight just for old times’ sakes. It changed our lives forever.

In lots of ways, nothing has changed. Everyone still knows we’re crazy for each other. I’m glad. We’re still just as spontaneous, just as much dreamers, just as much risk-takers, and just as much best friends. The thing that’s changed is our love. Our love has aged, and as with most aged things, it’s only gotten better. I was so out-of-my-mind in love with him then, I couldn’t imagine “better.” I couldn’t imagine liking him more. I couldn’t imagine better love, or deeper friendship. I couldn’t imagine loving life more now, because then was so good. All these years later, I’d tell young onlookers that on June 18th, 2005, David Engelhardt made me the happiest girl in all the world. I’d also tell them, he still does.  I’d tell them this: That These are the days, and so were those.  As we both know, the best is always yet to come.  Always.



No wise person ever wanted to be younger. —NATIVE AMERICAN APHORISM

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