First Date

Not only did you call, but you actually wanted to go out with me.  On a date.

How did I manage this?  A really, really good looking guy who was smart, who agreed (mostly) with my politics, who wasn't a dork AND who played in rock 'n' roll band?  Guys like you didn't date girls like the person I thought I was back then. 

Euphoria gave way to complete and total panic!

You did research.  You called a mutual acquaintance to find out where to take me. You chose Me Kong on South Grand.  It was perfect.

I gave you bad directions to my house.  You said it was cute.  I figured this was our first and last date. 

I wore black jeans, my tight white t-shirt, and a bright pink cardigan (the first of many that you would come to loathe).  You wore a vest and purple t-shirt and jeans.  Your hair fell in your eyes. 

We talked about music and politics and music.  We went to The Bull Tadpole for drinks after dinner.  We played "What It Takes" by Aerosmith on the jukebox - a break up song of all things!

You took me home.  My parents refused to leave the living room while we sat in the family room.  When they finally gave up and went to bed, I desperately wanted to make out with you, but you wouldn't do more than kiss me a few times.  

When you left, I was sure I'd never see you again.  

Apparently, I was wrong.  Fifteen years, two weddings and two children later, you're still here. 

When They Ask

When the boys ask about that dark day, as they are bound to do, we will tell them what we remember.  We will tell them about the unfathomable destruction and loss of life.  We will tell them about the acts of bravery and selflessness.  We will tell them that suddenly, there was a "Before" and an "After".  We will try to explain things we don't even understand.  

When they ask about the years in between, we'll point them to the examples set by their uncles and their service to their country.  We will tell them about the ones that didn't come home.  We will tell them about the good that was done and the mistakes that were made.   We will try to explain things we don't even understand. 

When they ask about last night and the news that came as they slept, we will teach them that evil should never be allowed to flourish.  We will teach them that violence should not be celebrated, but to understand that is the only response in extreme circumstances to ensure justice.  We will teach them that loving and respecting each other are the true paths to peace.  We will try to explain things we don't even understand, but we will try.

I Remember

The first time I saw you - standing behind a table full of literature in a ballroom at the Henry VIII hotel. 

The second time I saw you - walking out of the Ramada Inn in Columbia, MO a couple of weeks later. 

The formal introduction - later that night in the crowded hotel hallway.  David Witte introduced us and you offered to get me another beer.  You claim that's what won me over. 

The first time I swooned - when you asked if I knew who was playing at Riverport that summer and I responded "Cheap Trick" (expecting some kidding).  Your earnest enthusiasm for my favorite band had me hooked. 

The Boones Farm - Peach, straight from the bottle.  (Makes me a little queasy to think about it now.)

The first kiss - your crooked, tipsy smile as you leaned in. 

The embarrassingly naive attempt at seduction - "I'll show you how big a girl I am."  You still giggle about that and I still blush. 

The goodbye - when neither of us had a pen so I tore one of my checks in half to give you my phone number.  Years later, I found it was still in your wallet. 

Fifteen years ago, I was sure you wouldn't call.  

But you did.  You did.