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I was having coffee with a friend on Friday - one of the few people I know in real life that actually reads my blog - and we were discussing my last post about how I met my husband.  I started telling her some more odd coincidences within our relationship.  That’s when she said, “You need to add that to your blog.”  So here I am again to tell you more of the story.

Honestly, I can’t believe I left this out because it’s just so weird and I love to tell people about this.  The thing is, we were both born in the same midwestern city.  We both lived in Florida at one point, possibly in or around the same time.  Our dads both worked as sub-contractors on the space program; mine worked on the navigation system for the Rover; his worked on the navigation system for the rocket. 

When the space program ended, there were basically two choices for relocation: one, a lovely, beachside city in California with a saintly name; the other, a winter-laden town in Michigan that rhymes with kangaroo.  Both dads chose sunny California (thankfully) where they would work in the same building for 12 years, know of each other but never have reason to meet…until we got engaged, that is. 

So that makes our journey to love seem a little longer now, doesn’t it?  It’s as if we were following each other from birth, waiting for our lives to intersect at some point. I guess you could say that, along the way, all signs were leading to love.