Today (approximately) is our eleven year anniversary. I tried to find a picture with both of us in it but since we both take photos we don't have any of those. Except a photobooth picture but I don't have time to scan.
Eleven years. I try to comprehend that but... it just doesn't seem like it's been that long. Life is very abstract that way. In some ways we're still like kids; older, smarter, wiser, more mature kids with crow's feet and grey hair (which suits Mr. Risk well). When I compare myself to people on TV I am always shocked by how young I seem in contrast to other people who are much younger than Mr. Risk and I. Who are these people you see on TLC's lunch time television? Are they the norm?
In some ways we have this hugely responsible, mature life, but at the same time we don't have the life we're "supposed" to have for people within our age bracket. We don't have a wedding album sitting on the coffee table, a house, kids, a car... none of that stuff that sterotypically defines "growing up". The older I get the more I discover that there is no norm. That sometimes people rush to acheive these milestones because they think they should be keeping up with an agenda that someone else has set. The older I get the more I want that agenda to be defined by me and no one else.
Anyways, damn, eleven years!