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February 13, 2013

A little over a decade ago in a town not too far away from where I'm writing this, a young boy saw a girl across the room and immediately felt his palms become sweaty and his pupils dilate.  There she was.  It was her.

It was the first day of school, tenth grade for him, the room was a high school cafeteria and the girl was plucked from his dreams.  Although he didn't exactly make this connection himself, it was there hidden in his subconscious waiting for just the right time to boil over into the spoken truth. 

She stood in line against the wall of windows, her glowing silhouette seemed to hypnotize him while he watched the sun play games with the red tones of her hair.  He was mesmerized.  Eventually she made her way through the line and disappeared into the sea of people eating rectangle-shaped slices of pizza and mystery meat leaving him to wonder when or if he would see her again.

He didn't have to worry for very long.  World History was his next class and once he picked his seat slinging his blue book sack from his shoulder onto the floor beside him, he looked up and there she was.  Sitting almost directly in front of him across the room yet again, her desk location almost mirrored his leaving him with the perfect opportunity to see her face in, what he thought, a discrete way. 

She was beautiful.  With long auburn hair framing her face and bangs cut just above her brown eyes, he found it intriguing the way she looked away quickly when she caught his glance then almost just as quickly looked back to catch it again.  He found himself staring at her lips when she talked noticing the slight pucker they made when pronouncing words that contained the letter P or the way they turned up in the corners when she answered a question she knew the answer to.

After many days of catching glances and sharing smiles, a mutual friend introduced them after class.  He gave her his number and she gave him hers, they agreed to call one another after school.  However, consumed by teenage hormones and insecurity, one afternoon he decided to test the waters and reached out to the friend they shared for any information this girl may have divulged in private regarding him. 

Shortly into the conversation, with a popular R&B album playing in the background, the suggestion was made to call her on three-way so he could hear for himself.  So he could hear it on the down low.

That devious misuse of late nineties technology was eye-opening in both what she said and what he heard.  Of course, later he confessed to being on the line to which she was embarrassed by at first then relieved as she processed the reality of having broken the ice without intentionally trying to.

They had it bad.  When you're on the phone, hang up and call right back... that's how you know.

Looking back, it must have been love at first sight.

Proms.  Graduations.  College.  PetsMarriage.  Car payments, a mortgage and a daughter... almost thirteen years later and they're still playing catch from across the room when the opportunity presents itself. They still hold hands when walking side by side.  He still makes a point to watch her mouth when she talks once in a while. 

They're still together.  We are still together and the rest, as they say, is history.


  1. Aw, such a lovely tribute to your love story. The details you remembered! Wow! It's awesome you still catch glimpses of one another, still hold hands, and stay pay attention to those little details about her. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

    1. She's great! But enough sappy stuff for one week... Happy Valentine's Day.


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