A few years ago, I received a dream catcher in the mail

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What I will remember for the rest of my life, will be the moment I entered
this antique dream catcher, that came alive and wrapped itself around my
heart. That moment was the beginning of my love story with my beloved
husband. He is my first, and maybe only forever husband. He has always looked
perfectly at home in his uniform, and that was the only way I could fall in
love with the man who is now my husband. I love to see him and kiss him, but
more, I love him because his job is to protect and provide for me. He is my
strength and my stability. I have never been happier than today when I have my
husband next to me.

The dream catcher did not tell the entire story. I soon learned that the
small pink envelope contained more than dreams. I learned that I was soon to
hear the love story of two people who would forever be a part of my own love
story of the heart. The love story that I was soon to hear began a few days
after my first dream catcher encounter. I looked down at the envelope in my
hand, and for the first time in years, a tear ran down my cheek. I thought to
myself, now, I will be a wife, not simply a dream catcher wearer. That was
something that I wanted to do since I was 16. I would be in love, or even in
a relationship with a man that I found attractive. I always thought that
because I was attracted to men, I would date them. Now, I knew that men
could not date me. It was a no-brainer. He is my husband, and he is my
savior.

“I am going to marry you.” He said to me that night. I couldn’t
believe that I had just said that. It was an answer to an age old question,
that every young woman in every generation has thought, “what if. “What if I
was attracted to a man and that man fell in love with me? What would life be
like if my life ended with a love of my life? What if I would not have my own
dream catcher?

I did not know how my heart would respond. In our life, we have always been
married to our dreams. He would have never let me accept the dream of my
being single. He was going to make sure that I was not going to be a nurse’s
dream.

I had never considered being a nurse’s dream, except in the way that a
child’s dream is to grow up and grow up, live a life of service, and
ultimately return to the child who saved the life of the child who saved the
life of the child that grew up and grew up to save the life of all of the
children of children. I had always thought about becoming a nurse for the same
reason.

I had always considered myself to be intelligent and educated. I wanted to
be like my mother. She was the most capable, and the most skilled at what she
did. She was like a teacher in the classroom. She had studied in Spain for 8
years and returned to her teaching career that lasted until she was 82 years
old and passed away, after having taught at the high school her children grew
up in. Her life and her teaching career were so extraordinary that it became
common knowledge. She was a wonderful, amazing, and hard working teacher. I
had always wanted to be a teacher, but I knew that if I was going to be a
teacher, I would have to go where the teachers went; I would need to study
with them. The high school I had just graduated from had both our children
attending and my daughter was already teaching there. There was no way that I
could go to the same high school I had just graduated from, and only attend
my daughters’ high school!

The thought made me miserable. I wanted to be my mother’s daughter, not my
daughter’s teacher. I was an emotional wreck.

We were married in September of 1973. We started our marriage with a
wedding vow. After a few days of honeymooning in a local hotel, and trying not
to think about my mother’s teaching career, we moved into our two story town
home. It was a small town house, with a small back yard. It was not grand, but
it was ours. We were both the first one’s to buy a home in our small town, and
we were both the last homeowners to leave the house.

We had three young children in the home: my son, Andrew, who was born in
December of ’73; my daughter, Karen, born in April of ’74, and my son, Paul,
born in December of ’75. We lived across the street from our church. We went to
the church on Sundays, and went to church every weekend. Our church was
small, but everyone in the church loved us.

I remember having a dream that I knew was not my dream. I wanted a wedding
with a dream catcher, I wanted a marriage to a dream person, I wanted to be
married to the person I fell in love with, and I wanted to marry him. I was not
sure at that time that I had to choose one thing over the other. I just knew I
would not be happy unless I chose one.

In the beginning of our marriage, we lived in a mobile home, right across
the street from the church. He worked with a company that made mobile homes.
He would work weekends, and come home on the weekends. If I didn’t have a
particular project scheduled, he had to move his mobile home to a new location.

I remember that day very well. He had a very bad day at work, and I did not
let him get to sleep. I sat on the bed with him and we talked for what seemed
like an eternity. The conversation went from normal to deep, as we spoke about
the difficulties in our lives. It became clear to me that this man was going to
be a good father. He had been a single parent for many years. I don’t remember
how I got that realization, but it made a deep impression on my husband and
me. I knew that I wanted to be a mother for the rest of my life.

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