Today is my wife's birthday! In looking back at all my blog posts, I realize that I haven't written much about her, so today feels like the perfect day to expound on the love of my life.
I met my wife in high school, during my senior year, third period art class with Mr. Clerx. Stacy was a sophomore, but art class was an elective, so all grades were represented. I don't remember my very first impression of her; I'm sure we all went around the room and introduced ourselves during the first day of class, but I do remember the first time I really took note of her. Early during the semester, our assignment was to create a drawing in felt-tip pen/marker without ever lifting the pen from the page, and we were encouraged to not look down at what we were drawing. Stacy volunteered (or was volunteered) to be the model for the day.
She sat on a metal stool in the center of the room. I was off to her right side. Her long, blond hair was braided. Her blue eyes were larger than life, as if she hadn't quite fully grown into her face. She had a smile that wasn't too revealing; I assumed she was hiding a little secret behind it, but she was probably just nervous to be the center of attention. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and it had little to do with the assignment at hand. I knew very little about her, but I knew that I wanted to know more.
The next day, I made sure I grabbed the easel next to hers, and I began to learn as much as I could about her. We quickly struck up a friendship, and I quickly learned that she had a boyfriend.
High school came and went. There were a few moments where Stacy and I kissed, but we never officially dated. There were plenty of nights spent at coffee shops, conversing about things we assumed were deep. Stacy had an old soul, especially for a sophomore, and that sat perfectly well with me. Then I went off to college. Stacy and I wrote letters, some of which I still have today (as does she). I was still very smitten with her, but the distance, and her pesky boyfriend, got in the way. We grew apart. We lost touch. But I always kept a picture of her hidden away in a random picture frame, some symbol of my adolescence that I clung to...
Stacy went off to college too. She continued her passion for art and pursued a degree in interior design, a surprisingly practical application for her creativity. After college, she followed her boyfriend (same one) to Chicago, where she got her first job as a designer. Making little money, and getting fed up with a lack of commitment from the man she had been dating for about seven years at this point, Stacy decided to move back to Minnesota, eventually getting a job at Corporate Express. It was here that she met her first husband. They got married in 2005, bought a house in New Brighton, and got a wonderful dog (Bella). Along the way, Stacy worked in Golden Valley and Eden Prairie.
But I didn't know any of this. We hadn't spoken since the summer after my freshman year at UW. It was now 2008. I was getting a divorce, and I was looking to reclaim my identity, so I went to the internet, and I started to look up friends from high school. I remembered Stacy fondly; I was pretty excited when I found her MySpace page. Yes... there was a time when MySpace was a strong alternative to Facebook. She told me later that she truly hesitated to accept my friend request; I think we both had a sense where this might lead. When we met up for the first time in over ten years, I found out she was also getting divorced (or at least starting down that road). That first conversation lasted over six hours on a work night, and during that time, I found out just how ridiculously close we were to each other, all through our ten year hiatus.
Her old boyfriend went to UW, too. He lived on the same block I did, and Stacy visited him every other week. Her job in Chicago was on the same main road as my in-law's house in Hinsdale, IL. That job in Golden Valley? Her office window looked out onto my apartment balcony. The house she bought with her first husband? Two miles north of the house I bought with my first wife; we shared a grocery store, a gas station and a coffee shop. Stacy's job in Eden Prairie was down the road from the job I held at the time we re-met; we lunched at the same places. In all this time, we never ran into each other... not until the time was right.
And when the time was right, we hit it off. Stacy was still gorgeous, but she had grown into a woman, leaving behind the awkward teenage years. I guess I also shed some awkwardness (and gained new idiosyncrasies along the way). She was intelligent, compassionate, and kind. She was dedicated to her job, but also dedicated to enjoying life. She enjoyed music, food, wine. She liked going to car shows. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty.
She is still all of these things, and more: she is the most nurturing mother I could hope for our son. She is great with money. She is selfless with her possessions. She is spiritual (much deeper than we thought we were back in high school). She loves the outdoors in small, non-tented doses. She loves dogs. She loves me.
To complete the circle of circumstance and near collisions, as we were moving into the house we bought three years ago, with a wedding to plan and Grayson just a possibility of love, I was going through some things I had stored at my mother's house. High school stuff. Old projects, assignments and report cards. There was a roll of over-sized paper, and buried inside that bundle of artwork was the drawing I made during third period art class of a beautiful, young sophomore. It is now framed in our family room.
I couldn't be a luckier man, husband or father. Stacy is the love of my life, and she makes me happier than I thought ever possible.
Happy birthday, Stacy! I hope you feel as celebrated as you deserve to be today and every day.
