Bryan and I had a year’s anniversary coming up. We thought about what we want to do that evening to celebrate, and we thought, “Hey, we could move in together! That would be fun!”
Then we’ll go eat at Waffle House.
Ah, the joys of Waffle House. Bryan and I have a tradition of eating Monday nights at Waffle House. It started about a year ago, during Christmas Carol. He had helped the Shaman install his mother’s dishwasher that night when he called me to see if I wanted to get some coffee. We had started a very deep conversation regarding family and relationships earlier in the weekend and had never finished.
It should be stated here that I actually had another offer that night to go out, and I declined.
It was a VERY rainy night. I remember that. I remember it because I was wearing a slate gray mohair hoodie over a pink camisole, and I had my hair pulled back into a ponytail. The rain formed little droplets on the mohair. And the humidity was causing little baby hairs around my face to form little spit curls. I considered smoothing them back, but fought against it. It wasn’t like I was dressing up or anything, I told myself.
I got to Waffle House a little bit after we agreed to meet.. you know, because you always want the guy to be waiting and anticipating your arrival. I slid into the booth in the back of the restaurant, away from the massive crowd that had taken refuge from the rain, and we fell into an easy banter. He was quick. Smart. Very funny. We talked well in rhythm with eachother. We talked about his divorce, how he had just signed the papers.. and how it was now okay for him to start seriously dating. We both giggled. We talked about our families, their idiosynchrosies, and we laughed about the town we lived in.
(Later, Bryan said, “I knew we were saying it was JUST coffee.. but I needed that. I needed a lifetime of that.”)
And two hours flew by.
At one point, he touched my hand. It was unbelievable. Shocks, seriously.
When we fell quiet, we both watched the rain POURING outside. It was raining so hard, it was difficult to see far past the windows. Mostly, we saw our own reflections. It was just a very quiet evening. Not even that cold.
Eventually, he was called away, and I went back to my house and sat out on the porch, again marveling at the rain. Just a downpour. A cleansing rain. I had trouble seeing the street from my porch, it was raining so hard. He called around midnight that night, and we talked for a few more hours. And something clicked.
Now, we look into the future and realize how it couldn’t have happened any other way. It could’ve been easier, but all of those trials and tribulations just made us stronger, made us a better team.. and now nothing can bother us. We laugh at anything bothersome. I love “us”. And I really thank everyone who’s been involved over the past year, because you’ve helped. So thanks.
So you can drive from Airport onto the Parkway heading North on the first dark night of CC. Go the speed limit. After dark. And see if you really can make out two random people sitting in a booth. And then add rain.
And then you’ll be proud of the obstacles we’ve overcome.
What Bryan wants for Christmas:
