My firstborn is 15.
15, in high school, pushing hard for Facebook rights, thinking of a temporary licence and planning his homecoming date night with a beautiful classmate.
15 is a funny age.
15 years is roughly how long it's been since I've seen an old friend. Maybe it's more. Either way, memory lane these days.
15 is how many years I had in me before I met The Mr.
The life overlap is almost Dr. Who worthy.
In the fall of my freshman year, at 15, right around homecoming time, I met The Mr. and we became us.
We were a couple for the better part of 6 years before we got married.
We married in the fall, right around homecoming time.
In my mind we always have dual anniversaries, the years we've spent together and the years officially married.
It is almost our 21st anniversary. 27 years together.
I was 15 when we met. You do the math. I have now spent almost twice as much time with him as I ever spent without him, and remember, those were kid years.
Especially when I think of Little Mr. and his homecoming date, at 15, in the fall.
At 15 I never would have pictured my life as it is today.
I'm not sure at 15 I even pictured my life stretched out before me.
This is the bittersweet stuff life is made of.
High school is still hard. It's just a new hard as a parent to a high school kid.
I've spent more than half my life with The Mr. and yet looking ahead I still feel like I have more than half my life left before me to live.
Maybe it's just a numbers kind of morning.
Maybe it's a little touch of symmetry.
Maybe it's too much coffee in the early morning dark hours before sunrise.