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Saturday, January 15, 2011

Rearview Mirror

I’ll begin this blog with a bit of reflection. A look into the past if you will.
Sara and I met when I was fifteen. She was twenty-two. She lived in a simple, red brick house across the street from the place where my parents still rest their heads at night. She lived there with her husband and, eventually, a high-strung, bouncy puppy.
Sara was friends with my mom first. See, I was a bit reserved so we didn’t meet right away. They would chat frequently and I would over hear scraps of conversation as I was tucked away in my room doing homework, blaring music, or whatever the day had delivered to me.
I recall the day that our friendship took flight. I was supposed to babysit one weekend, but something else much more interesting to do came up. I was beside myself with aggravation because I didn’t have enough courage to call and see if they could make other child-care arrangements, but I also longed to do whatever it was that came up.
Sara was at our house just after I had completed the whining fest about the situation to my mom. My mom must have filled her in because it was only moments later that Sara was up in my room handing me the phone and telling me to “man-up” an make the damn call. I did and it was one of the most empowering days of my life. (disclaimer - I would never bail on an obligation, but was able to give plenty of notice to the family and I would have met demands had they not been able to find a substitute for me)
From that day forward, Sara and I were nearly inseparable. We often went to movies, played an occasional board game, and we shopped. This time was mingled heavily in between the time she spent with her husband and the time that I spent with whatever guy I happened to be dating at the time. We were very much platonic, but were very much in tune with each other. It was and is the most wonderful friendship I have ever experienced.
Maybe you’re wondering how we actually came to be.
Sara’s husband decided to take the unfaithful route in their marriage. Now, for anyone who knows Sara, this is something she would never, ever tolerate. She made no exceptions for him either. Divorce it was.
Given the situation with her ex, Sara moved to an apartment with a friend of hers from high school. I still recall the day I helped her move. I’m sure she would note this as one of the most empowering days in her life.
I spent every weekend at her apartment. Every weekend. For as joined as we were before, it amplified times ten or a hundred. Most would say it was ridiculous, but for us it worked. Still, we were platonic.
It wasn’t long after that I completed high school. Sara’s current roommate had other life plans, so the obvious solution was for us to get an apartment together.
We both needed a fresh start so we moved about a half an hour from our home town to accommodate this. Our apartment was a slab when we picked it out. New town, new slab, new beginnings.
The new apartment was great. That’s where the “real fun” began for us. We drank quite a bit and ordered take out a lot…like nearly every day. Once in a while we would slumber together. It was always to finish up conversation from the day that we were to tired to stay up for or to console a bad day that one or the other had. It was all innocent until one night…
Until one night when we were hunkered down for the evening in Sara’s room. We were nearly sleeping and she must have breathed funny on my lips or I breathed funny on hers, I’m not sure, but we kissed.
It was the most passionate kiss I have ever received. I was completely overwhelmed with many feelings that I can’t even put words to. These feelings were intertwined with feelings of fear. This kiss, these hours and hours of kissing, could grow, or they could ruin our friendship. We were both receptive to this possibility. 
That was the beginning of the intimate part of us. I used think that was the beginning of us, but, in perspective, it couldn’t have been. There’s just no way that kiss would have been so passionate had we not had four years of friendship to substantiate it. It was however, the night I fell in love with her. There was no stopping it. I fell hard and fast. And so did she.

1 comment:

  1. I LOVE THIS STORY! Thank you for writing it down because you could have gotten sick of me asking you to tell it to me again! :)