Who are you?

I had one of those moments this morning--the kind where you sit back and see your spouse or loved one in a different light, as though you don't know him or her. Craig and I have both been struck by the fact that we still define ourselves by who we were nine years ago when we first met. Even though we've lived in Georgia for seven years, Ohio, the State where we lived in at the time, lives large for us. Likewise, I still tend to see Craig as he was at that time: a masters student, my new husband. It's simplistic to say that things have changed since then.

I love those moments when I see Craig outside of myself, outside of our life. Sometime last winter I had the chance to attend a joint Biology and Art Department event. Craig and one of his colleagues had a arranged for a viewing of Manufactured Landscapes, a film that integrates biology and art. As the students settled into their seats, Craig stepped forward to give a brief introduction, and in those few short minutes it was as though I had an out of body experience:

That person standing down there by the projector, who is he? He's so authoritative, so professorial. Oh my god, that's my husband. I don't even know him.

But of course I do know him; I just don't see him in his working life much. My perception of him never graduated when he finished his Ph.D.

Those transitory moments wherein I see Craig anew aren't limited to his professional existence, which brings me back to this morning. Grace woke us early. Too early. And like the good husband he is, Craig got up and got her ready for the day. As I was willing myself to get out of bed, I sat up and watched him lean over to give her a kiss on the forehead. It was like I was watching some other dad, loving some other kid, and it struck me. He. Him. My husband. That guy over there. He's a dad. A real life dad. Not to a new baby, but to an elementary school kid. There was something so familiar about the way he leaned over her, and the way she turned her head up so he could kiss her forehead. It reminded me of my own father and the millions of kisses he's bestowed upon my head.

Life is really good in those moments.