They are 17 and they are - make no doubt about it - absolutely, unequivocally in love.
Love taking hold is a wonderously frightening thing to behold.
They are 17, and I am watching their young romance blossom through their Facebook status updates. I find myself smiling at each of their updates, their exchanges of "ILY!" multiple times a day.
I'm learning the modern day lingo of the lovestruck while expressing myself like the unhip 40 year old second-cousin-by-marriage that I am.
"You are both so cute," I comment. "I love living vicariously and nostalgically through you. Seriously."
And I am, living vicariously and nostalgically. (I don't care if it's not really a word.) Remembering those breezy days of living and breathing another.
The irony is not lost on me; her parents are the very reason why The Dean and I are sharing a wireless connection tonight. Her Facebook postings about this young love return me to a time gone by, a time where I remember her parents (now divorced) celebrating their first year of dating with a midnight kiss and cake, a room full of friends drunkenly trying to remember what comes after should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind in "Auld Lang Syne." Remembering her father calling us - on the landline phone! - to say she had been born. (Fancy such a thing, such quaint exchange of news back in the days pre-Facebook.)
And I want to believe her beau when he replies to my comment that it is the truth, that he is wishing and hoping that they'll stay together forever. That no distance can separate them. They can get through anything.
They are 17 and they are in love.
With a whole life of love to live.