Anniversary

I met Eric eighteen years ago today.

He was tan & bright eyed & joyful. I wanted to swallow his confidence like a pill, and wanted some small amount of his shinyness to rub off on me. I had never known anyone like him. His brand of self-possession and comfort-in-his-own-skin was so foreign to me that I didn't have words to describe it. I just knew that he was special, and that I wanted to know him for a long, long, time.

Eric was the first good choice I'd made as an adult, and is still the best.

We were sitting on a bench in Yosemite this weekend, and there was an old couple sitting across from us. Looking at them I was filled with such longing to have what they have -- what they've presumably HAD -- a long life with each other and the chance to be old together.

This is the same old song I always sing. It's Martha's Lament. I can't help it. It's eighteen years later, and it still feels like Eric hung the moon.