Megan Stielstra's Blog

There are dates—I see them as little dots across my lifeline—that changed everything, that sent me spinning in another direction, that make me look back on the girl I was prior to that day and think, Who the Hell were YOU?

February 2nd is one of those dates: Caleb was born, and even though it was just three months ago, the whole of my life has changed.

August 4th is another: I got married.

December 1st: I became a homeowner (or, I no longer had any life savings. Or, for the first time in my life, I was IN DEBT. Good debt, yes, but DEBT).

January 2nd: I stopped waiting tables after a decade.

August 15th: I moved to Chicago.

August 11th for two reasons: my birthday, mostly, but also the day I stood on Petrin Hill overlooking Prague and decided I would move there.

April 21st: Christopher and I were friends, first. And there’s that fear, when you finally own up to the fact that you’re attracted to a friend, that taking it to a different level will hurt the friendship. That wasn’t the case with us, though. We just fell into it: no worrying, no fear. It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made; actually, it didn’t even feel like a decision. There was no Should I or shouldn’t I? There was only Well, of course. And Now it begins. And What did I do to deserve this so I can repeat that action five thousand times?

Four years ago today my friend kissed me for the first time—on a pier, at night, in the rain—and everything changed. Two weeks later I moved in with him—his studio apartment in Roger’s Park—and a month after that we moved to Prague—a fourth-floor walk-up on a cobblestone street—and a year after that we moved back to Chicago and started building a life together here.

Two years ago today he proposed—on a dock, just before night, just before a thunderstorm—and four months later we got married—on a beach, just before sunset—and a month after that we bought our home—across from the Aragon, serenaded by drunks at two a.m. when the shows let out.

Today, as I write this, our kid is asleep in the next room, and who was I before that kiss on the pier?

Who cares.