On this day six years ago Le Hubs (then, Le Boy) went on our very first date. We saw National Treasure, the very last showing of the night. I got all dolled up, meaning I wore my hair down and my socks matched.He showed up in what were essentially his pajamas. I don’t even think he had taken a shower. We were the only one’s in the whole theater, he held my hand, we talked through the entire movie and the ride home and for an hour parked in my driveway. He walked me to my door and hugged me on my front porch.
Last year, I was newly pregnant and terrified at the idea and a little angry at my husband for knocking me up . I was so tired and sick I could barely stay awake to welcome 2010 into existence. I was unable to recognize the wonderful little being whose cells were quickly dividing within me. I did not realize how amazing and terrifying and beautiful and trying the year would be. I could not know that it would physically, mentally and emotionally push me and pull me in ways I had never known. I was completely unaware of all the really scary trials that stood ahead of us as a family and as individuals. Or how 2010 would teach me to step back and smell the clean laundry or appreciate the sound of my brother’s voice over the phone.
This year, I watched the caterpillar of 2010 morph into the butterfly of 2011, with kisses from my lovely husband, a sleepy smile from my little guppy, champagne glass clinks from good friends and my parents, my little brother’s voice reverberating in my ear, not over the static of a telephone wire but from just a few feet away. This little butterfly of a year is both beautiful and fragile. Only time will show how its wings have unfurled but today, in the winter’s early morning gray sky, it lilts in the dull light, not yet heavy with minutes and the wind carries the world’s hope for this brand new year. And I sit, willing myself to embrace it’s newness and the beauty of the unknown.