It was a windy Saturday, December 28th, 1996. A friend drove me to Southpointe's Isoplex (practice ice for the Pittsburgh Penguins) where I was scheduled to meet Timmy Resciniti. I was sixteen and too new to my driver's license to dream of using my parent's car.
He didn't like to be called Timmy. But it's fun to say, "Timmy Resciniti". I'd been saying it for about a week. I said it at the mall. I said it into my bathroom mirror. I was fairly excited to meet a boy on my cousin's indoor soccer team.
And on the Saturday in question, I spent a lot of time primping. It was unseasonably warm. I was wearing a burgundy shirt and tan corduroy pants. It was warm enough that I didn't even take a coat.
He was wearing a #18 soccer jersey inside out so it looked like #81. He had brownish blondish hair. He didn't say much.
I often wonder what that girl, so proud of the curls she'd put in her long dark hair, would think if I went back and told her the future? If I told her that she would start dating that boy? That in 2002 she would marry him and in 2005 they'd have the most beautiful daughter the world had ever seen. What would she have thought if she knew what started that day?
But back then he just asked, "is it alright if I call you sometime?" And when he did call we talked until all hours of the morning. He would leave my house after our dates and I would call to talk to him as he drove home. It's amazing now that we have anything left to say.
It took us years of high school/college romance to get to our courthouse wedding in 2002. But it is something to look back at that first day 13 years ago. The day I met my husband.