A strange sort of love story

I was staring at myself in the mirror a moment ago, washing my hands, thinking of a time years past, when I sat across from a Hazel Eyed woman:

"Why do you keep doing that?" she asked.


"You keep doing sign language when you're talking. Why?"

It was the Fall of 1999. That summer, I thought I'd lost my soul mate, the woman who'd taught me a little bit of sign language. Her name was Whitney. I loved her so much I couldn't see straight. Even this sparkling gal from Menifee County couldn't cheer me up.

Now, in the Fall 2009, 10 years on, I realized God returned to me that woman I love.

Fact is, I got a second chance. Sad to say, I've spent most of the last 4 years in bitterness and self-delusion. When you bottle up so much darkness, it's hard to see the light shining through. Back in 1999, I would've given everything for even a glimpse of the blessings I have now--a life with Whitney, children, memories, laughter. Yet, I never felt blessed.

Staring into that mirror, looking at my nearly 31-year-old self, I felt blessed. Truly blessed. I love my wife. I always have. I always will.

Strange, rambling, meodramatic ("Squirrels in my pants") I know...just wanted to capture it.


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