The thing about marrying the boy you fell in love with at 18 is that it can be hard to see him as anything other than the lanky, nervous teenager you kissed by your locker after class when you thought no one was looking.
Years later, as you watch your husband, now confident, dressing for work in a pressed shirt and tie, you still see glimpses of the smitten boy who took two-hour train rides to visit you in your college dorm, lying with you at night in your too-small bed.
During our first years of marriage, I often wished that Matt and I hadn’t met so young and that I could have gotten to know him for the first time as the adult he turned into instead of the boy he was. Well dressed and kind, funny and self-assured, he would have been the type of guy I’d be looking for but wouldn’t think I could find.
[For more of this story, written by Alana Romain, go to http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06...-the-ledge.html?_r=0]
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