Anchors and Echoes

Hi.  I’m new here.  Having moved over 30 times in my 30-something years, I’ve said those words a lot.  No, I am not an army brat or an army wife, but I am used to boxes, to packing and unpacking my life.  After a while, I stopped decorating my spaces.  I learned to have fun without getting too attached to anyone or anything.  I began to accept that I would always be lost somewhere.  Then I found my anchor.  On a cold winter’s eve at a party that I wasn’t technically invited to.  He was sitting across the room and I was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming urge to get to know him.  I sat beside him every chance I got; I talked with him, I drank with him, I danced with him.  And when we left a coffee shop in the wee hours of the morning, I folded my hand into his and sealed our fate.

Seven years, three countries, and two kids later, I can still feel the power of that first touch.

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