Sometime in October, 2006
I'm sitting in an arm chair on Lake street. It's dark, it's late, I'm exhausted after a long day, there's nothing left to do but go to sleep, but I can't. I'm sitting there on the verge of sleep and awake, in that state where nothing is totally real, nor is anything truly dream-like. Another fellow was lying on a couch on the other side of this old living room in this old house on the hilly street which climbs towards the campus. I am awake enough to see that he is in the same state as I am, with nothing really left to do but sleep, but something kept us from it, and I can't speak for him, but for me it was that sense of being in a friend's presence, and just belonging. Being totally understood and totally accepted for who you are. That's the atmosphere into which I voiced these words,
"This time next year I could be married." To which my friend who, until that moment, was slipping off into sleep himself, declared, flabbergasted,
"What?"
Well, it was more than a year. It was 14 whirlwind months to befriend, fall in love with, pursue, court, propose to, and marry Cecilia. This is the start of our journey. The very beginning.
December 8, 2007
Nate! You're killing me! Why must you be so patient and so ok with pacing your telling of this story?
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