adios mexico

*This post was written last Saturday night/early Sunday morning.

We hop on a one-way flight back to Houston today. This time for good. In a few weeks, I might be able to process everything, but right now I'm just going through the motions.



Do you know that on the first date Bruce ever took me on, he came to pick me up and said, "I'm gonna take you to the best restaurant." And do you know where we went? The Village Inn. Do you know this place? It's like a step down from IHOP, a smudge better than Waffle House and along the same level of dry-heave as Denny's. We pulled up, and I just looked at him. Incredulous. I feel like this was a foreshadowing of how our life would be together. (Mexico City = case in point)



But then there was a moment during the date when he noticed my water was empty and he refilled it for me. And I had one of those undeniable impressions, I'm going to marry this guy. It wasn't so much a desire as much as it was a statement in my head that I knew to be truth. And I was scared. No one aspires to marry the guy who thinks Village Inn is the best restaurant ever.



But I married him anyway. Just two months shy of my 21st birthday (20 years old!!). Poor, naive soul that I was, I knew he was my match. We married 13 months after that fated first date and moved into an apartment underneath a guy who swore up and down that all he was burning upstairs was incense. He'd come knock on our door every once in a while to see if he could borrow money from us. Because we weren't newlyweds and poor college students or anything.



One year after marrying, we graduated and packed up all of our belongings into a little u-haul, leaving Utah in the middle of a blizzard on New Year's Day. We drove three days across the country to get to New Jersey and then to Virginia, listening to Harry Potter books on tape, and barely drinking any fluids because manic Bruce didn't want to have to stop for bathroom breaks.



We lived with my grandparents in Charlottesville, Virginia, our second year of married life. I was working for VDOT in their Research Council and Bruce was working at a random souvenir shop before starting his Master's program at UVA. We were saving money for a down payment on a home and generally maintaining an idle lifestyle of doing nothing and getting in our pjs at 6pm to avoid the rest of humanity. Our biggest problems were weird co-workers and paying off loans. We even showed up late to church that started at 3pm. Who does that?? But that year I found out I was pregnant and things got heavy.



My grandfather passed away in the summer. It made me even more grateful for the blessing of the previous six months we'd had with him. And also grateful that I could be with Lola during that time afterward. There are things she had to learn to do without Lolo around. Like filling up her car with gas...



One month before I was scheduled to give birth, I quit my job at VDOT, moved out of Lola's house, and we moved into our new home in Jersey. Bruce had been going back and forth on the weekends trying to fix up the condo we bought and finishing the basement, so when I finally got there he had everything unpacked and had even "decorated." Nevermind that I moved a few things around later. I remember walking into the condo for the first time after everything was finished. Bruce had lit a scented candle before I came. He was excited to show me everything he had done. I walked down to the basement and at the bottom of the stairs, he had placed a little shelving rack in the corner at a diagonal with a little green plant on top. It made me laugh to imagine my very square accountant husband thoughtfully deciding about how to place that little shelving rack. At a diagonal or up against the wall? Hilarious.



B made his grand debut and we experienced the mother of all paradigm shifts. We loved each other more, because of the new-found respect parenthood awarded us in our respective roles and the magnitude of daily tasks with a newborn. A few years later we sort of forgot how hard it was the first time around, so L was on his way. By this time, we were going to outgrow our 800 sq-ft. condo and Bruce was in negotiations with the firm to take us to the great Lonestar State. It wasn't without a few hiccups getting there, however. Including a case of spinal meningitis, a flooded basement, several offers on our condo falling through, me and B living with my parents for two months in Utah while Bruce commuted, and once again moving at 8 months pregnant.



But after all of that, Texas felt like sunshine and happiness. Not to mention swimsuits all day, every day. The less clothes, the better. We made some amazing friends. M came along a few years after L and our home was inundated with various shades of pink. I had an inkling she would be the one to keep me humble. We thrived and were happy. But deep down I knew a change was coming, because Heavenly Father never lets us stay comfortable for too long. Apathy is dangerous.



And then one day Bruce came home and said, "What do you think about Mexico City?" Er... (see toilet shot above and shower drain below)



It was Village Inn all over again.



But luckily, it turned out to be so much better than greasy breakfast food under fluorescent lighting. It was like the best nighttime street side quesadillas ever... spicy, awesome and a totally sketch risk. It even came with a side of Little Burrito.







So if a guy takes you to Village Inn on a first date... no, that wasn't my moral. Did I have a moral? It's been a great 10 1/2 years, babe. Thanks for making life such an adventure. I love you.

(Pictures are of our empty apartment.)