Eight years ago today, I was an idealistic 24-year-old putting on the only tulle I've ever worn, in preparation to walk (barefoot) down the aisle to wed my similarly-idealistic, purple-haired (dyed to match the bridesmaid's dresses) love. I know that it's not terribly creative, but is there a better word than "amazing" to describe how quickly eight years can pass? In less than a decade, I feel transformed. Jobs and houses and motherhood and death and more love than I knew was possible. I've aged and grown in mostly all good ways. Still me, but better, or so I'd like to think.
And we are better, too. Maybe not always as passionate or spontaneous, but more assured and united. More solid. More relaxed. More connected than we could have imagined back then. For better or worse.
