Eleven years ago my husband and I had our first date. It was his 38th birthday. We originally met on a dating web site and had met in person the week before at a Mexican restaurant (Jose's Blue Sombrero) in Racine, WI, about ½ way in between our homes.
For our first date we went ice skating downtown Milwaukee, went to a bar, and helped an older man who fell while trying to get home. While ice skating was dreamy, and hanging out at a bar fun, it's that act of service that sticks in my head.
The man, perhaps in his 80s, seemed to be trying to wait for a bus or to catch a cab, but the cold wind knocked him over onto the ground. We were across the street and were able to get to him. Pablo was able to call a cab company to come and pick him up. The man seemed a little nervous with us there, so we waited in the car until we saw him get in his cab.
As we reacted and problem solved, it felt like we were already a team. After just one date we were already being the complement to each other.
Eleven years later, as we celebrate his 49th birthday, we do so with two young kids, in the midst of a pandemic with a snowstorm approaching. Our celebration included Lou Malnati's pizza and Star Wars movie watching. And, it included each other.
I am thankful for that day eleven years ago that was my best - and last - first date. And, I am thankful for each day, each year, each milestone I get to spend with my kind, smart, funny, handsome husband.
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