River of Dreams

Before September 11th became September 11th - it was mine and Mitchell’s grown-up dating anniversary and this year marks our 15th year of togetherness (no break-ups or moves across the county, etc). I had just started my sophomore year at Berry and was invited by a friend to travel over Labor Day weekend to visit her boyfriend at Baylor. A large group had planned the trip over the summer, but everyone had bailed out except for my friend and Mitch (and she couldn’t travel half-way across the county with a boy)! So she needed me to join them. But Mitch and I had years of history and drama between us and a long car ride would probably mean a murder-suicide. But after much deliberating (and some taunting from Mitch saying he could put tolerate me if I didn’t talk too much), I joined them. And I didn’t speak one word to Mitch. From Windy Hill on 285 until well into Alabama, I rode in the backseat, silent as a mute. Until, of course, my friend announced that she needed the back seat to rest and I had to sit up front with Mitch - the silence was broken and by the time we were crossing into Louisiana, the history and drama had melted away and we were well on our way to becoming the amazing couple we are today (with my friend wide awake in the backseat congratulating herself on her plan).

We had practically pledged our troughs by the trip home and were making plans for the following weekend when Mitch realized he already had a date for that Friday night (September 10th). Instead of canceling, he went ahead on the date (to explain the new situation) and our first, official rest of our lives date would be on Saturday September 11th. We went to Perimeter Mall (of all places - I guess we were scared to be seen together in good old Duluth), ate and saw The Man Without a Face. A year later, Mitch presented me with a collage picture frame with pictures from Baylor and the date of our trip out there. He remembered and today, 15 years later, so do I! I love you, Mitchell!