(Here are the others: One Through Six, Seven And Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve And Thirteen, Fourteen And Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen and Nineteen.)
2002, aged twenty
(Note: If I haven't mentioned this as of yet, I'm lucky in that my birthday falls at the very beginning of the year so for 99.9% of each year I am the same age, making it fairly easy for me to write these posts. Well, easy in terms of remembering not as easy in terms of ripping off long-ago-healed wounds.)
I turn 20 at a Cheddars in Plano, Texas. Lauren has joined me there to celebrate my birthday and it's the last stop on a Texas tour that took the two of us through Houston and then to San Antonio and onto Austin for various college-minded reasons. (Read: to drink and see boys.)
Now that I'm a sophomore and that horribly anxious first year of college is behind me, I've fallen into a peaceful sort of routine. Studying for History tests and writing in blue books and walking to class in wrinkled T-shirts. Eating sandwiches in on-campus delis and going to date parties and still spending an insane amount of time with Lauren who has become this calming force in my life. I'm a bit all over the place, thinking of this and that and this again and whenever I walk into our shared sorority-house room, I instantly feel more at peace. It's the same now, when we meet for dinner or go to the movies---even though years have separated then and now and a lot of growing pains have, as well---whenever I see her, I feel just that much more at ease. She has that way about her and when you're twenty (or fifty, I imagine) that's a beautiful kind of friend to have around.
That summer I find a job nannying two boys, aged ten and seven. I cart them to tennis lessons and for snow-cones, but mostly I stay out of their way while they reenact Spongebob and swim in their pool. I also take them to McDonalds far more often than I should and since my lunch is on their parents tab, I eat far too many orders of fries than I should. Thankfully I'm working out regularly---for the first and, possibly, only summer of my life---and it makes for a really calm, nice summer, that routine of mine. I don't know if all college students will agree with me, but there's something about the stillness of campus or the emptied-out streets or what, but summers were always my favorite time of year in College Station. When I think back on college I'm first brought back to the football games and I'm next pulled back to the summers. As miserably hot as they were, they were good to me.
I leave a few weeks into my junior year for my sister's wedding in Toronto. She's a stunning bride and it's surreal to watch her get married. Right before we're to go down the aisle my nine-year-old brother pulls me aside and tells me he's nervous that he'll drop his ring-bearer pillow. I lean down and hug him and tell him if he does to look at me. The photographer, somehow, captured the moment and it's still (to this day) my favorite picture---with me hugging my little brother on our sister's wedding day. I dance with my dad to "Unchained Melodies" and toast to the happy couple, pausing to thank Canada for their drinking laws.
In October we have an out-of-town date party---on a party boat on Lake Travis---and I go with Cherie and Crystal and Lauren and everyone's respective dates. Crystal has paired up a redheaded friend of hers with one of our other sorority sisters and I notice him as we sit across the bus from each other. I listen to him talk to everyone and tell Crystal how much fun he's having, and all I can think---not that he's cute or seems fun---is that he's all wrong for the girl Crystal paired him with. That's the first thought I had of my future husband, "I wonder who will warn that poor guy about her." Not love at first sight, no, but it is the first night I meet Mike. October 11, 2002.