I came along
I wrote a song for you
And all the things you do
And it was called "Yellow"
… continued.
Every couple of years there is a love story. One that that
knocks you off your feet. Despite the ups and downs, you believe it’s perfect in every way, and you leave the moment day
dreaming and humming a sweet tune of longing. It is one that resurrects something dead inside
or reignites that flame in your story.
Mine may not be that for you, but writing it down does all
of that for me.
 |
| We were babies, y'all. |
That day on the golf course changed the course of my life.
Adam and I began dating.
We went to prom.
He picked me up from Operation Graduation.
He dropped me off at my job for the summer – a church camp.
Then we broke up.
We broke up.
June.
July.
August.
September.
September.
October.
November.
December.
January.
February…
February 27th , 2008 I received an email on
MySpace titled:
“are you ignoring me?”
[Yes, I have this whole conversation printed out and in a
scrapbook, judge away]
The message read:
“…”
I hadn’t heard from this boy, the first boy I ever told, “I
love you” to – in a Subway parking lot at that, in a little over 8 months. The
only thing he can write to me is a title and three dots.
I responded with a “?” and my future groom returns with a
playing-hard-to-get-just-messing-with-you attitude. One full of a busy week of visiting colleges
who are attempting to recruit him for the golf team, etc.
Eventually it dwindled down to – My last class is a 6 am biology lab. It ends at ten. You have a golf
tournament that same day, I can make it. Can I see you then?
My biology lab seemed to take forever. Not to mention
someone had died (yes died) in the restroom down the hall that morning. While the minute hand took her sweet time prancing around from hour to hour, my mind was occupied by wrestling with my heart over the words – what
am I doing?
Class dismissed.
I ran across UTSA to the parking lot a mile away.
Jumped in my eggplant purple granny car just a little after 10:00 am and booked it on a 3 hour drive down i-37.
Oldie the Eggplant Oldsmobile managed to make it in time to allow me to see Adam play his way through a couple of
holes. His mother was there, driving in the golf
cart, which absolutely made my palms sweat. She totally hates me, right? Followed with another tormenting battle of what am I doing here?
The past few months rolled through my mind as I tried to
focus on the handsome golfer.
A semester of trying to move on.
A semester of trying to forget.
A semester of … what did I tell him again? Oh a semester of
being free…
But there he was.
The only boy my heart ever really belonged to and he was
dirty and sweaty, probably in need of some sunscreen, and playing golf.
There I was the only girl who ever had his heart standing
anxious and stressed, probably needing sunscreen, and watching him play golf.
The tournament ended. We said our “hi’s” gave our hugs and
ended it with a “see-ya later”.
A hundred text messages, a 3 hour phone call, an “I’m
staying at my dad's this week” and we saw each other again.
Driving around our home town we eventually stopped at the local Sonic. Hours passed as we talked about the year, the trying to move on, the
future, and eventually in that Sonic parking lot we both realized we never really fell out
of love.
Adam signed with a golf team in San Antonio.
I transferred to the same school to play on the same team.
And we both fell in love all over again.
…
Two years later I hurt my shoulder and had to transfer back
to UTSA.
This time he was the one who transferred, leaving behind the
full-ride to chase his future bride.
Dear friend, with a Trilogy in mind I present you with, yet again--
... to be continued.
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