I’m having one of those weepy nostalgic days. Neil got a new job. Not in one of our dream cities yet, but nonetheless an upgrade and a better opportunity than his current job affords at a price that makes the economy and all its stresses a little easier to breathe in. I’m grateful.
In the midst of being so happy for him, I can’t help but think back to our first vacation. It was 2007, and we were dating long-distance at the time (3 hours apart), and the week-long trip to Florida to visit my sister was the most time we’d been able to spend together. It was like playing house in a dream-like state. Our little hotel room had a kitchen we made breakfast in, and waking up next to him for five whole days felt more amazing than I had ever dared myself to imagine. I cried for hours after he left. Nothing felt certain at that point.
So on this day when we continue to dream big things for our lives and plan major milestones and the expectations that go along with them, I can’t help but think back to when the biggest dream we had was simply living in the same city and sharing a space every day. It’s so easy to let expectations fly and forget how far and from where you came. I feel like I do it all the time. Have you?