I was 17 and active in the theatre at my college. I was fooling around on the stage with some cast members when David, then 21, entered the back of the auditorium with his best friend. According to his friend, David said, "Who's that girl dancing with Tom? I'm going to marry her." That part may or may not be true. In any case, he came up to me and was introduced. Big chubby redhead with a billion freckles. I wasn't impressed.
I did get to know him, as we were both involved in community theatre. Nice guy. Honest, loyal, hard working, and a great smile. He took the cast pictures, and I was often the rehearsal secretary. Didn't have time for performances, as I was a math major. So time went on.
He kept after me, but I was dating someone else. Then I was involved in an automobile accident, a pretty bad one. My car was destroyed, and it left me with scars, including one on my chin. Several weeks later, David came over to take photos of me. He arranged my head and clothing to hide the scar -- no photographer had ever taken such a flattering photo of me.
By the time I healed, my previous boyfriend was dating someone else.
The director was once again twisting my arm to get involved with the theatre again, but I didn't have any transportation. Guess who drove me to rehearsals.
Our first kiss was eye opening. So soft and sweet.
We married when I was 20. Over the years we had sons, grandchildren, travel, love, and laughter. His talent for photography eventually led him to become a Director of Photography in the film industry. I became an investment advisor. It was not a boring life.
He died of a silent heart attack at 60. It took almost two years for me to deal with memories of our life together instead of simply experiencing deep grief. But now I can remember him and smile.
