I heard a song on the radio yesterday that brought back a really vivid memory. Actually, every time I hear this song I remember a morning way back in 1997. Just an ordinary morning really, nothing special. Kris and I had been married a year, and we were living in Greenville and going to ECU. We were probably skipping class that morning, (like we often did) laying in bed with the window open, just talking and listening to the radio. Though it probably wasn’t the topic of discussion that morning, I’d had it in my head around that time that we needed to start trying to have babies. I wasn’t being realistic at all, I just thought, “We’ve been married a YEAR! Let’s get going on this!” Thankfully, it was 3 more years before Cooper joined us… because wow. We SO weren’t ready.
Anyway. We were just laying there, a breeze was blowing, and “Landslide” came on the radio. Now, neither of us are Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Nicks fans, but for some reason we both just got quiet and listened. And this probably sounds corny as hell, but it’s like we just knew that it was one of those moments. The ones you don’t plan, they just happen as you go about your daily routine. And I think it suddenly hit us both that we were growing up, letting go of safe and familiar things… and that big changes were coming. We didn’t know what, or when, but it was a bittersweet moment I’ll never forget. We didn’t even talk about it that day. We didn’t need to. We just held each other a little tighter, and knew.