My Story Is Not Their Story

It was the summer of 1983.

My mom was going to be a senior in the fall at the same high school I go to now, and my dad was going to be a sophomore in college (at the school I'll probably go to next year).

My mom's friends started hanging out with my dad's friends that summer. My mom's best friend is cousins with my dad's best friend.

Fast forward to December of 1983.

My mom's senior Christmas Dance was approaching, and when it came time to find a date, she decided to ask my dad.

A week or so before the dance, my dad took my mom out on their first date because my dad says that he didn't want their first date to be the dance.

But even still, it was technically my mom's senior Christmas Dance that brought my parents together. Ever since that December of 1983, my parents have been together.

Fast forward again to December of 2012.

Tonight is my senior Christmas Dance. It's still at the same place it was in 1983. Although I'm sure that tonight the girls will wear different dress than they would have in 1983, and the DJ will play music no one would have dreamed would be popular 29 years later.

It's weird to think about how my life is so similar to my parents' lives, but so dramatically different at the same time. Over the past 17 years, many of my memories have been memories my parents carry with them too.

Although our lives overlap so much, my story is not their story. Because if my life took the same course as my mom's, I would be going to the Christmas Dance tonight with my future husband.

I can't believe that my mom was MY age when she met my dad. I literally can't imagine meeting my future husband right now - I think it would be SO cool. I may even be a little jealous that my mom met her future husband before I will - ha!

Instead, I'm going to my senior Christmas Dance by myself. There is absolutely no way that I am going to the Dance with my future husband, and it just goes to show me that no matter how similar we are, everyone's lives are unique.

I don't know when I'll meet my husband, but I know one of our first dates won't be at my senior Christmas Dance, like it was for my parents.

As I sit here and type this, I can't help but think how I wish I knew how my story turned out. But then again, I guess that would ruin the end of the story.

All I know for certain is that my story is not their story, it's just that: MY STORY.