Good Things

Ø  People who wave back when I drive like a nice person

Ø  Being able to put “bilingual” on job applications

Ø  Elected officials are legally bound to protect my right to call them all idiots

Ø  Books with no paper or project due at the end

Ø  Adult children

Ø  Grandchildren

Ø  Napping on the couch with the dogs, especially when it’s cold

Ø  The Big Bang Theory

Ø  Comic book movies on the big screen (Iron Man 3 was awesome)

Ø  The Lego animal sculptures currently on display at Hogle Zoo

Ø  Indoor plumbing, climate control, various household appliances

Ø  Kindle, and other eReaders

Ø  Big trees perfect for children to climb in

Ø  Women who come to sit by me in church so I don’t have to sit alone

Ø  My awesome husband and his awesome brain

Ø  Playing the Star Wars theme loudly on the piano when I’m in a bad mood

Ø  Living in a musical—if you’ve ever been in my house, you know what it’s like

Ø  Dictionary.com

Ø  The motorcycle gang that meets next door, and their collection of huge, gorgeous bikes

Ø  Margaret Mitchell, Margaret Atwood, Margaret Thatcher, Margaret Mead, Margaret March

Ø  Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Miniatures; the perfect chocolate to peanut butter ratio

First Kiss

            At the time, I had five little brothers and three little sisters.  They were adorable, but left little room for privacy in the house.  My boyfriend and I were out in the garage, hiding from the children.  My dad was at work, so the car was gone and half the garage was empty.  The air smelled dusty, like cement and unfinished walls.   A bare lightbulb on the ceiling and one small window left the space dim and shadowy.  Dust motes floated in the sunbeam. 

            I was convinced the boy standing in front of me was the one I would marry, the one with whom I would raise children and grow old.  His dark brown eyes looked back into mine, and I could see into his very soul, where he felt the same way, naturally.  At fifteen, the whole of the universe lay at my feet, mine for the taking.  I wanted only this boy, and our easy friendship.

            I didn’t know how I felt about the fluttery, nervous feeling in my stomach.  Physical attraction was new and exciting, and I had no idea what to do with it.  I held his hand in the halls at school, and sent long, ridiculous notes declaring my undying devotion, but I had never kissed him in all that time.  In this moment, I knew he wanted to kiss me.  And I wanted to kiss him.  I was eager and terrified, unsure and pretending to be confident and mature.  He leaned toward me, I tilted my head up to meet him, and, just like magic

            A spider dropped from the ceiling, spinning silk just long enough to dangle right between our faces.  I screamed, jumped back about three feet.  It was a tiny spider, not much bigger than the dust motes in the sunbeam, but those wiggling legs made it clear this was not dust.  I was much more afraid of the spider than I was interested in kissing.  The moment was ruined, destroyed completely.  The boy killed the spider, laughing at my fear, and we left the garage to hang out with my family. 

            We stopped seeing each other shortly after the spider incident.  I had noticed there were other boys in the world who might also be interesting.  I went on to pursue new relationships and other interests.  I watched him from the corner of my eye all the way through high school, wondering what might have happened.  This boy was my first love, and decades later, that spider is etched in my memory, wiggling in front of the most beautiful eyes.