When I was sixteen, my family chose to move to a new city. Great. A junior in a brand new high school. I knew no one and had no friends. A long, lonely first month passed. And then I saw this guy. He was running on the stadium track behind the school. Gym shorts, no shirt. Hmmm - maybe this new school wasn't going to be so bad after all....
For a number of years now, my husband and I have taken a short pre-Thanksgiving trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. We usually leave Birmingham on either the Saturday or Sunday before the holiday and return on Wednesday, just in time for me to cook all evening in preparation for the great family feast. Actually our first trip as a married couple occurred on our honeymoon, followed by a long stretch of years spent finishing college, establishing careers, and raising a family before we chose to return. Some of these trips have included family members and friends which we both totally enjoyed. And yet others, like this one, were just the two of us. Again.
As with all vacations, once away from the usual daily stresses, we took the time to remember the little things. Hand in hand, we strolled the busy sidewalks enjoying the holiday lights and the festive decorations. To stay warm, we huddled together on the ski lift as we made our way up the side of the mountain. We teased each other, laughing and flirting - much like that teenage boy and girl and yet so much more. An added depth that the passage of time and the sharing of lives brings.
I share this rather personal story with you because today is Thanksgiving. And I am so very thankful for blessings too numerous to list but one of which is that I'm a romantic. I absolutely love love stories. So I write romance.
And the hero of the above two paragraphs, that workaholic, alpha male who is presently hauling Christmas decorations up from the basement and bellowing my name?
Oh, yes. I am blessed.