sunshine, lollipops and rainbows

cara walked into our room and dropped her backpack on the bed. “so when are you going to start getting ready?”

i jumped up from my computer, grinning, and yanked open all my dresser drawers. “right this second!” pink henley top … favourite stonewashed jeans … grey zipup vest … in retrospect, what was i thinking?! (then again, we’ve never been about appearances.) to pull back the hair, swipe on another coat of mascara, and pop in a wintermint orbit was for me the work of an instant, and i jumped up on my bed to execute a few choice dance moves before plopping down to wait.

minutes ticked by. bursting with nervous glee, i drummed my fingers on the duvet and sort of couldn’t believe what was about to occur. after all, i’d been secretly — then more publicly — hoping for this for precisely forty-one days. and i am a bear of little patience.

knock-knock-knock.

i flew to the door and flung it open, revealing nicholas will in perfectly fitted jeans and what has since become my favourite black long-sleeved shirt of his (with the exception of new wardrobial additions like that brown old navy tee.) cara sent us off with admonitions to be good, i silently thanked amelia for her cupiditous work, and we walked down the hall smiling. (it’s possible i actually skipped.)

half an hour later (during which time we vowed not to let things get “weird”), we pulled up at the cinema complex and headed into the theater. the empty theater. which was awesome cuz we got to stake out our favourite seats (middle center with feet on the railing!). by the time we’d scooted back into those seats and expertly propped our feet, it was still empty. so here we were, on our very first date, in a big black room, alone. “and now,” whispered my inner woman, “we shall see what sort of man this nick be.”

one year of movies, concerts, midnight phone calls, dinners at Lulu’s, and lengthy handwritten letters later, i’ve found out. this man nick is the sort of man who checks three times before our first kiss (but has never hesitated since) … who reads stories all day to krista and defends his oochipooch status to james … who offers to drive ten hours roundtrip after a full day of classes to pick me up … who knows the power gobs and bubble tea have over my heart … who reads shelley and plays beethoven and whispers his dreams in my ear … who drops money into street musicians’ hats and smells like clean sunshine … who quiets my tears by his presence even over the phone and magnifies my joys until i’m brimming with bliss … who’s setting off on a surprise visit home for his mom’s birthday this very afternoon …  who explains his opinions clearly and with conviction but never arrogance … who makes me want to be beautiful in every sense of the word, and forgives and encourages me when i’m anything but.

happy october seventh, baby.