About

Welcome to Open Halfway Through.

People have been asking about the origin of our moniker. It is from a poem titled, “Love at First Sight”, which I (Tara) sent to Michael shortly after our engagement. It tells the story of almost-meetings between two people who eventually fall in love. It is, or could be, our story.

We took the title of our website from the final two lines of the poem because of how true they are. “The book of events is always open halfway through.” You can create beginnings and endings for stories, but every story ultimately blends into every other story. Our stories today blend in with our stories from yesterday and the stories of tomorrow. And in some way, they blend in with yours, even if only by you reading them.

We hope that you will follow along as we share some of the stories of our family: Michael, Tara and little Clara.

Love at First Sight
by Wislawa Szymborska

They’re both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways -
perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them
if they don’t remember -
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember.

They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.

Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn’t read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood’s thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.