This is the story of the fateful meeting of my husband and our lives together. In March, 1997 I met the man of my dreams as I was sitting outside my barracks studying my college material. He was helping someone carry their laundry up to my floor. When I laid my eyes on him, my heart pounded and I knew this was "the one." We were both in the U.S. Army, stationed at Ft. Benning, Georgia, finishing out our tour of duties. I will never forget that day; I was listening to a set of headphones while studying and he asked me what I was listening to. This is the conversation that has led to a lifelong union.

At that time, we talked for about two hours and then he went home. From that point on we were inseparable, spending all of our free time at "our special place", a small lake on the base, talking about our lives and what we had in common, and even our differences of culture. I truly believe that sharing this with each other so early in our relationship helped us to make it this far.

Meeting my husband's family for the first time was a very frightful experience for me. First and foremost, I had never been in the house of a black family and didn't really know what to expect. I did not know if they were going to accept me or reject me. Fortunately, the majority of his family welcomed me with open arms. His sister is the only one that did not really accept me because of my race. My husband reassured me that she would come around. To this day, I still believe that she has not truly come around. In almost 3 years, I have spoken to his sister maybe three times. This has caused friction in my home because my husband feels that I don't make an effort to try to communicate with her. Personally, I felt very hurt when she outwardly showed her rejection towards me. I get along just wonderfully with my mother and father-in-law and speak to them on a regular basis.

The introduction of my husband to my mother was a whole different story. My mother totally rejected him, in her own sort of way. She did not outwardly reject him, but instead, would make little remarks here and there about blacks. She even at one time called him the "N" word and made statements like if we have children, she hopes they look like me so they don't have hair "like his" and don't have the "black features" that he does. Again, this caused friction between my husband and me. My mother has since apologized and tried to rekindle the relationship that she had with me and also with my husband. After that incident I cut off all contact with my mother for about 5 months. I always believed that a mother's love should be unconditional and that she should accept and love the man that I chose to marry. My mother did not attend our wedding, nor did she even acknowledge the fact that we did get married. My own mother did not know my new last name for almost a year after I married.

We spent another 5 months together at Ft. Benning and then were both discharged from the Army. We made a mutual decision to move up north because my father lived in Pennsylvania. My father was totally and unconditionally accepting of my husband and we even lived with him for awhile, until we could get on our feet. They had a wonderful relationship, going fishing together, playing horseshoes and just hanging out and talking.

We only lived in Pennsylvania a short time because my husband could not stand the lifestyle up north. They live a totally different way than what he was used to. He grew up a military brat, but both parents are from Georgia and they raised him the "southern" way. We constantly fought over the fact that we had to move once again because of the racial tension that exists in PA. We researched several areas and decided to move to Virginia. More southern than northern, it has worked pretty well in the last year that we have been here.

Constant arguing about the different ways we were raised caused a lot of tension to build in our home. Communication went downhill and we grew apart for awhile. Finally realizing that we were raised differently and that is what caused our misunderstandings, we sat down and listed all the things that bother us about one another. A lot has to do with our different cultures. For instance, he likes to eat different things than I do, making dinnertime an argument most of the time. We came to an agreement that I would cook different things for the both of us, if need be. That has worked well for us. Another instance is the fact that black families have very strong bonds, and the family that I come from is very much the opposite. He always thought that I should make more of an effort to keep in contact with his family. I always thought, until our compromising sessions, that he should make contact with his family and if they wanted to talk to me, I would be more than happy to speak with them.

Given the fact that he grew up the "southern" way and I grew up the "northern" way, we have many more differences than an interracial couple that both grew up in the same region. For those of you that have never traveled out of your region, you will not really understand what I am trying to say.