I'm sorry if you are still reading this, I just feel compelled to have it out there. So here it goes...
The call came in the morning. The RS and his brother would be coming for lunch on their way out of town. I was thrilled. I called my roommate and she said she would be home for lunch as well.
Cooking has always come some what natural to me. At age 7, while my mom was giving piano lessons, I baked cupcakes from scratch and sold them to the neighbors, un-frosted. My poor mom was so embarrassed. I was too young to be embarrassed over something like that. When I was older I worked for a catering company for a few years and then a vocational training school for people with disabilities, teaching food service skills. I could cook decent. So I decided to make lasagna, green salad and garlic bread. (I knew there was no way I was going to have a chance at a kiss with his brother around, so I brought the garlic.) Everything is sailing along quite smoothly. This is not a difficult meal to make anyway. Just as the RS and his brother arrive, smoke starts to billow out of the oven. Then the smoke alarms start blaring. Garlic bread was invented to torture me, I'm convinced. The RS and his brother take it in stride, snickering a little here and there. I open the front door to let the smoke billow on out so that I don't have to hear that obnoxious noise coming from every direction in my house.
My roommate walks in and hears the smoke alarms going off in every direction. She laughs and says, "Karen, making garlic bread?" Yeah, took a while to live that one down. Lunch was nice. I don't remember much about it, other than I really wanted some more time with the RS, alone. Oh well, wasn't happening that trip. I wasn't ready for him to leave. He seemed like he was anxious to hit the road, but he promised to call me when he got home. He mentioned he would continue to write me. I wondered if I had imagined things while laying on the floor in my great aunt and uncle's house. There was certainly the chance I would never hear from him again. I hugged him good bye and realized he was taking a piece of me with him. How could that be after such a short period of time, face to face.
Sure enough, the next day when he arrived home, he calls. He is tired from the trip, but still makes the effort to talk to me. I am thinking in my head, certainly this counts for something. We talk for a while and he tells me he will be dropping another letter in the mail to me the next day. Smiling, I say that I will be watching for it, not knowing if this guy is interested or just passing the time. I'm not certain myself if I'm in love, just certain I don't like not being near him. And then there is still that moment so real in my head, reminding me that I know I will marry him.
A few days later I get the letter. It's a thank you note. He thanks me for the lunch and mentions how much he enjoyed getting together. Then he mentions how much he wants to see me again. My heart starts throbbing. I was getting a little worried I had no affect on him. He invites me to come visit him in San Diego. He assures me that his parents have a spare bedroom that myself and a friend/sister could stay in and to let him know if and when we would be making the trip.
To be continued..............
Sleeping Through the Night, Green, and Pink
3 days ago
I love hearing your story! Mine isn't as romantic. Dated, broke up because of his crazy(seriously) ex, then we got back together, moved in together, got engaged, got married. There that's it. :)
Don't apologize, I'm enjoying reading this!
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