Anne Bradstreet and the Day We Fell in Love {PA Wedding Photographer}

It was a cold and snowy day. January 8th, 2011. I thought it would be "important," but I would hardly dare to dream that this day would be life-changing. I was enroute over snowy mountains in Pennsylvania to spend some time in Carlisle, PA. I would be looking over the area for a wedding that I would shoot 2 weeks later... but even more interesting, I would be meeting a friend. His name was Brandon. We hadn't seen each other in many months and hadn't truly spoken from our hearts in many more.

This was the day that we would fall in love.

On that day, we chatted through sips of coffee at the local coffee shop, warmed our feet by the fire. We wandered through deserted streets of this small town. Saw an old firehouse museum and walked by interesting churches. Looked at statues. Chatted with strangers. Caught up on our lives. We wandered into a local bookstore. I sat on the floor (which I tend to do) and he sat across the aisle and we shared from our hearts. He wondered aloud to the shop's proprietor who had done the painting on the wall and if it was for sale (it wasn't). I wondered if  there were any books by Anne Bradstreet...

I bought this that day...

 

We had  found a little restaurant to get out of the frigid winter weather. Seated at Table 5. We stayed for four hours. Talking and talking. Weaving dreams of the possibilities of our lives. Becoming closer and closer friends. And each one having a moment of revelation that this *could* be our forever.

And so it is. We would be engaged 3 months later and married 4 months after that..

Recently, I opened the book about Anne Bradstreet.. and remembered January 8th. 

That landmark day. 

It will be a year on Sunday. 

An anniversary of falling in love. 

The words of Anne Bradstreet (the first published American poet) ring true in my heart:

To My Dear and Loving Husband:

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers canneot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompetence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay.
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever
That when we live no more, we may live ever.