The first song B ever sang to me was Lady by Little River Band. It was playing on the radio a weekend in March, 21 years ago when I was living in Colorado and B flew in from Seattle to
celebrate my birthday. He arrived on my birthday with flowers in hand. It had been six months since I lived right around the corner from him, a month since we had seen each other, and a day since we talked on the phone.
So that weekend we were sitting in a restaurant when this song came on, and B started
singing to me. The entire world disappeared, and it was just me and him, his smoldering eyes locked on mine and flirted with every word he sung. And, that’s when B and I decided that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.
Last week, I heard that song again. For just a moment the entire world disappeared, and I was taken back to that night 21 years ago. I smiled and looked at B. His eyes, smoldering and flirty.
He smiled back--and not his awkward, everyday “I-don’t-know-how-to-smile” smile, but rather his alluring “I-will-change-the-world-for-you” smile, the smile that pierces time and still fills me with unexpected warmth. In that moment I wanted to melt into his body and stay there forever.
Then something bumped my arm. Suddenly I was very aware that we were not in that dimly
lit restaurant but rather standing in the middle of the tool department in the Home Depot where my children were wrestling on the floor and other shoppers were jostling around and stepping over us to pick out their new hammers and screwdrivers and tape measures.
I blinked. The song ended.
B placed chop saw blades, nails, and drill bits in our cart and said, “I have one more thing to get. I’ll meet you at the cash register. Then we can go to the grocery store.”