It was 37 years ago last fall that I sat in Mrs. Peel's Spanish class far more interested in pulling on the braids of the freckly faced brown haired girl who sat in front of me than in conjugating verbs. (Maybe I should have paid attention - I live in Miami now. Caramba!) We were 12 years old. I was still pulling on those braids 36 years ago. And again 35 years ago. Then, again 34 years ago. (Look out, I was getting ready to make my move.) Finally, 33 years ago last fall I began flirting with that freckly faced girl during study hall in the media center and getting yelled at by Ms. Callahan for making too much noise showing off.
And just 32 short years ago (yes, it took a whole year) that freckly faced girl finally gave up on me. She asked me out on our first date. I kissed her for the very first time. I liked it.
She was my Juliet. My freckle face Maria.
Then 27 years ago today that girl lost her mind and agreed to marry me. (Wow!)
Since then the years have flown by faster than I could have ever imagined. (I remember laying side by side in the playhouse behind her Mom's talking about how great it will be to grow old together - but I never thought it would really happen!)
There have been ups and downs, fights and make-ups. (I remember that one time she got mad at me like it was yesterday.) She gave me four amazing children who are all smart like her (and good looking like their father).
We’ve had our victories and we've had our failures, fat times and lean times over all these years, but through it all I always knew that if I just turned my head slightly I would see that freckly faced girl right by my side. (The Florida sun is great for those freckles.)
Thank you Debbie. I love you.
(Hurry home. I miss you. And can you pick up some shiraz on the way? Oh, and we’re out of laundry detergent. And cat food. Shampoo. Did you pay the water bill? Where is . . .)
