My husband and I first met at his sister’s wedding in Chicago, September 1986. It was love at first sight. Or a sort of recognition. For those who don’t believe in love at first sight: we were clearly destined for each other and we both knew it in a gut wrenching, heart lifting sort of way that made us want to simultaneously reach for each other and run as fast as possible in the other direction.

Since I lived in Houston and he in Miami, he made the first trip, joining my best friend and I at the Texas Renaissance Festival. I made him miserable, he flew home.

The next move was mine to make, and he flew me to Miami for the weekend. I’ll never forget walking down to meet him in the concourse, short leather skirt calculated to make him never forget this trip… thinking ‘it’s just a fun weekend, just a fun weekend’.
In a move that I would come to know as totally him, he went out of his way to make me feel welcome by totally redoing his bedroom. New king size bed, new comforter set, a TV wall mount held a brand new set up high on the wall so I could see it. I joked then that it looked like a motel room, but it really did!
I was touched that he would go to so much trouble just for a weekend.

But that was him. Now? Now he takes me for granted, and maybe I do him as well, though I try not to. After so many years now I know why people get divorced because the other person just doesn’t ’see’ them anymore. Not that I would ever leave him… I’m just going through a personal rough patch and I need to remember the good times, the days and nights that made me smile and fall in love.

Not every day can be a peak, or we would never enjoy them when they come. And as Scarlet said: tomorrow is another day. There was another day to look forward to in 1986 and there is another one now.

A note about the picture: I was anorexic. And drunk. We both look better, even if quite a bit older, now.