May is the Month I Met the Man I would Marry

When I lived in the mountains I knew the sights, sounds, and smells of each month. May was sunshine, blue skies, an abundance of wildflowers, and sounded like birds sining. In the city, in Southern California, the seasons are not as defined and the months tend to blur together. But the month I met my husband became a distinct and clear memory.

It was cool enough to wear a sweater but not cold enough for a coat. It smelled like coffee and literature, as I sat in a Starbucks, drinking tea, nervously paging through a book as I waited for him. It sounded like the murmur of a coffee shop and the "click click" of my tall, but noisy shoes. He had blue eyes (that are sometimes grey like a cloudy day) and they shined with kindness. I had a great fear of relationships, jaded from past experiences. You see the fearful part of me always said "run, run before you get hurt!" and once I did actually run from someone. but that night I stayed, and we talked, and we kept talking for more than 3 hours. I should say I mostly talked, quickly and nervously. But something strange happened. A girl who does not smile or laugh easily was smiling and laughing. 

To this day no one can make me smile the way he does.