It’s interesting how one simple thing can remind you of so many little things… like opening a brand new cd. That should not remind me of a person, but it does. It reminds me of the week that I spent in Texas with a man I still hold very dear to me. I open cds a particular way, because he showed me how. It’s been nine years but it still reminds me of the afternoon he and I spent in a small music shop in the outskirts of Dallas browsing through stacks of music. When I get to thinking about it, I can recall the majority of that week in March…The airport, and the way his face lit up when our eyes met. The first time that he kissed me, followed by the rush of butterflies I got when he did so. I had never felt like that before, and I have felt similarly maybe a handful of times since then. I remember making him take me to the zoo, and how every time I have been to the zoo since then he comes to mind. Tasting deep fried pickles for the first time. The mistletoe hanging from the tree in his front yard and how he pulled me under it just to kiss me because I had been sad about having to go home. The drive out to the lake, and how we sat and watched the sunset together. The party at his friend’s house the night before I left, and watching him blow fireballs. The tears in his eyes as I left him standing there at the airport to head to my gate. The phone call I got from him shortly after I got through security and the sincerity in his voice when he told me that he loved me. I held onto the memories of my trip for so long, and I hoped with all my strength that he and I could make it work… but like with so many things, life got in the way. 

I feel like a lifetime has passed since then. He and I still keep in touch, and I’ve seen him once since that glorious week in Texas. He was a long-haul trucker for awhile and the summer before last, his route brought him to Seattle. Three days after my twenty-fifth birthday I spent a few hours with him in the parking lot of a Wal-mart. I drove so fast down to meet him, and when I got there all the memories of that week I spent in his arms came flooding back. We walked around for awhile, talking and catching up. He held my hand and I might as well have been 18 again. He got a call from his dispatcher saying it was time to head out. We said our good-byes and as I went to leave, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Even though we both were married, I honestly think that it was something that needed to happen. I had held on to the possibility of a maybe with him for so long, never really letting myself move on. In the moments after the kiss, as I was driving away, I felt a surprising calmness take over me. That single kiss answered so many questions that I continued to dwell on for years and I was finally able to move on. 

Some times I wish that he was a bigger part of my life, but I now understand why he can’t be. I had to learn to respect his relationship with his wife and the family that they have together. We don’t talk often anymore and it took me awhile to get used to that. Occasionally I have moments when I think of him, like tonight when I opened that cd in the way that he showed me. These moments pass, but he will forever be engraved into me.