This afternoon I took it upon myself to clean some areas that had long needed organizing. In doing so, I found items that enveloped me with memories of yesteryears. Old love letters and notes passed in class brought back the sweetness of first loves, stolen kisses, and dreams of a young girl in love. Snapshots revealed more than just the people in the pictures~sounds, smells, and conversations tumbled in around my heart. Reading through old school newspapers caused me to stop and wonder where those people are now, and if they are happy.
And then the phone rang. It was Johnny. My Johnny. The man that loves the woman I am today. The man that has stayed in love with her for almost 25 years. Maybe not the starry~eyed love that I felt so many years ago, but he brings a love that I know will last. I find it comforting that he still brings butterflies to my tummy when I see him across a room. When his eyes meet mine, I love the way his smile is for me, and for me alone. We didn't know each other during those high school years or the adventurous college days. We met after broken hearts and shattered dreams had dimmed the notion of true love. After the toll of stressful adult life made us wonder if dreams were really meant to come true.
Late at night, after our daughter was fast asleep in bed, and I was trying to get everything ready for the next day, he would come to me. He would find me and bring me into the kitchen, where the radio was. And he would dance with me. It became an endearing part of our relationship. Long after our children were grown and gone, long after housework became less important, and long after our youth faded, this man, this beautiful man, still dances with me. We still dance in the kitchen.