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Switching Sides Staying on the Potter side of the cottage with Kevin, sleeping in his old bedroom, and hanging out with his family feels pretty natural now, though I can still remember very clearly the first year we met he and his dad, Harry Potter, when my sister Mary and I shared the bedroom on his aunt and uncle’s side of the cottage. Many nights Mary and I spent giggling since we had trouble figuring out the right combination of window shades down to keep the streetlights from streaming in and shades up/windows open to keep from getting too hot in the cottage which has no air conditioning.
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There’s no place like home. This visit we’ve had some special sound effects to keep us amused. We’ve determined that some little critter, bigger than a mouse, most likely a squirrel, is running back and forth in the attic or on the roof, we’re not sure yet. A chorus of chirping birds alerted us to the super-popular nest that was apparently built in the vent of the dryer (that no longer works).
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Sumptuous Sips Kevin and I have been spending some of our vacation time chilling at what is hands-down the best coffee, smoothies, panini place in town (Sips has actually been voted the number one coffeeshop in the city, but now they also have our esteemed seal of approval). We’ve gone there at least once a day to use their free wi-fi while sipping on delicious frozen drinks. Kevin’s favorite is the mango fruit freeze, and mine is the Piña Colada smoothie topped with plenty of whipped cream. It’s locally owned and operated, as are many of our other favorite stops in Rochester.
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I am the one. A number of years ago, thirteen to be exact, Kevin squeezed my hand and said, “I wish you could be the one.” I smiled and squeezed his hand back. I’d been wishing the same thing, but I figured it would never work out. He drove me back to my grandmother’s apartment in his black Monte Carlo in time for my super-early 10:00pm curfew.
Thursday, on our way to the beach, while I was driving, I took Kevin’s hand, squeezed it and said, “I am the one.” He smiled, knowing immediately that I was making reference to the comment he’d made that night many summers ago after we’d watch the lightening over the Lakeshore Golf Course.
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Come, Follow Me…The first week Kevin and I got to spend a significant amount of time together, just the two of us, was in August before my senior year of high school. I remember asking Kevin, while he ate his taco salad at another Rochester staple, Charbroil restaurant, if he would do three things he hadn’t done in a while that would be a bit of a stretch for him. My requests were the following: 1.) Come with me to Sunday Mass. 2.) Visit his mom at the nursing home. and 3.) Try and get up on water skis. I figure two out of three ain’t bad, especially when they were the first two and eventually happened on a regular basis.
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Never in a million years did Kevin or I think that fourteen years after we met at the cottage, we’d still be keeping in touch, have stayed best friends, and against unimaginable odds become and remained a couple who’s now been married for six and a half years.
We certainly wouldn’t have imagined that one day Kevin would feel inspired to come to daily Mass with me. (The first time he came with me to Mass, before we’d even pulled out of the parking lot, he informed me, “I’m glad I went, but I don’t think I’ll ever go back.)
Lord, You are truly amazing! Your plans for us have definitely been beyond our wildest dreams and most fervent prayers. Please help us remember Your Perfect Plan for us is the best reason for us to have high hopes for the future. Amen.
Check out Jennifer Fulwiler’s 7 Quick Takes Friday series and her high-traffic for good reason blog Conversion Diary.
