October Remembrance

Written: October 30, 2006

Eight years ago, to the day, we sat at the edge of the Palos Verdes cliffs. I was 16; he had just turned 17 the month prior. We had met in July of that year and although we had only known each other for three months, it felt like I had known him my whole life. And with a kiss we entered into a relationship that would, unknowingly, take us to places we’d never intended.

I can still feel the cool breeze sweeping through my hair like it did that night. I can hear the rhythmic crashing of waves at the shoreline. I can almost taste his lips on mine and feel his hand gently holding my face. And the words he said still roll around in my mind, “I don’t intend for this to be just another relationship. I don’t want it to be like a toy that you get as a little kid at Christmas time; you’re all excited about it when you first get it but then a month later it’s lost in the back of your closet and you forget it’s even there.”

It seemed from day one we both knew something was different about us and what we would become. Laying back on the blanket, staring at the clear, starry sky with my head resting gently on his chest, I felt more at home than I ever had. And I knew I never wanted to leave that place.

I came home that night wearing his sweater. My mom asked if it meant the same thing it would have when she came home as a teenager wearing my father’s sweater. She called it “going steady”. I laughed and after a while of defining terms like “dating”, “courting” and “going steady”, we finally agreed that, yes, it did mean the same thing. I don’t remember my mom ever being so excited for me.

Isn’t it strange how the end is so vastly separated from it’s beginning?