they found me straight away, in those early, nervous days of freshman year, before i had time to notice i needed finding.
annie was just my kind of girl: solid, steady, insightful, not given to preening or giggling. she was smart and a musical maven with calves of titanium: i liked her on the spot.
jer had this way of making you happily spill your guts, loyal and disarming, his trademark snigger as obnoxious as it was endearing. he was a dead-ringer for my older brother: i liked him on the spot.
and so we passed notes and spooned cookies and camped under a shelf of kentucky rock. we treaded frigid north atlantic saltwater off the coast of portugal, kicked up spanish dust in a pick up soccer game. we sometimes studied. argued. drowned lettuce. shared homework and half-baked poetry.
and through those formative, fantastic years known as higher education, i watched them flirt and tiff and fall in love. i stood witness in velvet the color of currant wine as they pledged a lifetime of devotion.
now, some dozen plus years later, annie and jer are as beautiful together as ever. and with the arrival of their gorgeous little guy, i had the recent and distinct pleasure of photographing their family.
(isn’t it bizarre and miraculous that we all have lawns to mow and water bills and grown-up jobs? that they trust us with the welfare of smallish, actual human beings?)
so here’s to the rich, simple pleasure of an afternoon spent with dear friends. with people deeply familiar with my eccentricities and flaws, but who still stand shoulder to shoulder with me, ready to take on the messy brilliance of this life.
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stop by emily's place for more everyday miracles.