I was thinking about us ... when we first met. We were friends first. You'd tell me stories about you and your brothers and all the trouble you would get into when you were younger--as "latch key" kids. (That was long before there was a term for that.) I figured out, early on, that you were the instigator most of the time. Even when we were apart, I'd run little imaginary movies of your terrible-trio-exploits through my mind, laughing. It didn't take long to understand why your neighbors knew you all by name (and reputation).The first few times I met your family, we'd all be sitting around chatting and I'd look up and you three boys would have disappeared. I'd find you all standing in the garage, talking. At first I figured it was "guy" stuff ... sports, cars, etc. But one day I overheard you all talking about your nephew ... and how you couldn't believe that he was crawling. Then you chatted about your niece, sharing cute stories about her. That's when I knew the men in your family were special. That's when I knew I wanted to spend my life with you.
I was thinking about all that on Sunday, at your aunt's 80th birthday. There you were, the three of you ... off in the garage, away from everyone else. It took traveling 100 miles north, more than 12 months and some pretty creative planning ... but you all were finally together again. Laughing. Goofing off. Ornery boys again. And I was so happy to see you so happy.
