| I wrote this bit a long time ago, but I’m in the process of changing things up around here, and I decided that I wanted to have it in a place that was a little easier to reference. So, here it is. |
First, there was a boy and a girl. Or maybe it’s better to say first there was a girl and a boy … whatever. You get the idea.
Somehow, they managed to get together. A year in college. A couple more as DINKS. Jobs: programming, hardware design, database development, project management, student teaching. The kid. The move. Somewhere in there came the writing and the critiquing. The Imps. Learning how to tell a story.
The encounter.
Every now and again, you stop and look around you, and all is going pretty much as it should. It’s not really that you’re completely successful–success is a philosophical conjecture. It’s not that you’re perfect or that anything else around you is perfect. And it’s not some mystical presence of supernatural power that makes you blink and sigh.
Relationships are not magical creations.
Instead, it’s the realization that every time you make a mistake there’s someone in your support structure that picks you up and makes everything all right again. It’s knowing you’re safe, and feeling that it’s okay to stretch yourself just a little–that it’s okay to do something that scares you (and maybe even succeed with it). It’s okay, because there are people who will love you no matter what.
That’s when you know you’re in the typosphere.