I'll never forget it.
I was sitting in the library reading to my kids. They were engrossed in the story of Curious George and I was doing all of the voices.
And then, I heard a voice that wasn't mine. "Hi there." It was him and we hadn't seen each other in almost ten years. It was a former boyfriend with his little boy. And as I introduced my children to him, "Sam/Kate...this is Mr. X," my heart was about to leap out of my chest.
The other night, my girlfriends and I were having drinks...taking a trip down memory lane...recounting stories of our previous relationships. It was a funny, sweet, tipsy dialogue about the beauty of love.
Doesn't everyone have a story? Rarely do you marry the first love, the first kiss, the first relationship. Most of the time, you have an "ex" (even though, I hate that word).
And no matter how old you are...17, 18, 19, 36, 50...you still want to look good when you happen to bump into them at the most random of locations, like the library. In some silly, sophomoric, ridiculous way you want to viscerally say, "I still got it going on..." And, for a moment, make them wonder. I think it's all very human.
But the older I get, I am grateful for the ability to say thank you for being in my life, for making a difference, and best of luck. And then, the feisty part of me thinks..."Ha, I always knew you'd go gray first." Just because I can't help myself.