I’m sitting at Stephen’s, a little overwhelmed with everything I’m feeling. I thought it was best to try to get it all into words.

Last Friday I ventured down to Rolla after work to hang out at Stephen’s and just get out of St. Louis for a while. My grandma was in the hospital there, and we went over to see her after we ate. It was a great visit. Grandma commented at some point that she didn’t think there was a Stephen in the family yet - then looked at me and asked if it was too early to say something like that. We assured her it was not.

I guiltily lit a cigarette as we drove home. (Grandma has breathing problems from decades of smoking.) Rolla is a small town; in order for me to have time to finish smoking Stephen had to drive aimlessly for a while. We chatted as we drove, until I realized we were complete off the normal roadways. Curious, I watched as Stephen drove us onto a dark and nearly-abandoned country road.

He stopped the car and got out. Then he came around and opened my door for me. Still curious, I followed along. He took my hand and led me about ten feet from the car. Then he gathered me into his arms and looked up at the sky. I did the same.

The sky was filled with a million stars. They glittered and winked down at the two of us, standing in the darkness smiling back up at them. At that moment there was no one in the world but the two of us. Time stood still, and the stars twinkled. I knew I’d finally come home.

Earlier today we decided to have a late lunch at Panera Bread. Nothing special about this - he was in a ‘pensive’ mood and I was getting frustrated trying to tease him out of it. I’d spent too much time in Rolla, and my Saturday was slipping away from me. Saturdays are my big days for errands and productivity at home, and here I was at 3pm in Rolla.

Conversation deteriorated into politics and social policies. He was goading me by poking at my hard-line stance against drugs and drug dealers. We’d just read an article in the St. Louis Post-Disgrace about the St. Louis City police officer who’d been killed yesterday and his partner wounded by a fucking drug dealer, and I was pissed. His comment was that it (probably) wouldn’t have happened if drugs were legalized and regulated by the government. The more he insisted, the more angry I got.

His comment that crystal meth should be legalized and regulated like alcohol and tobacco was the last straw. A friend of mine nearly killed herself with crystal meth, and I had just had a dream about her last night - a dream in which she died in my arms. I hadn’t told him about it, so obviously he wasn’t being intentionally mean (or stupid) but it still rankled.

It didn’t occur to me that he was just taking this stand to rile me until I was already riled. He smiled and I tried to shake it off. Wryly he smiled and commented that he has liberal leanings. You think? I asked.

During this conversation a man and his son had taken a table behind and to the right of Stephen. The son was perhaps ten or eleven, and obviously enjoying some sort of conversation with his dad. Stephen looked pensive again, so I asked what he was thinking. He shook his head. “I’m listening,” he said.

I continued flipping through the newspaper, watching Stephen look wistful. Then he smiled and leaned forward. “I can’t wait to be a dad,” he said. The father and son were apparently having a good conversation about everything and anything, and it caused Stephen to dream.

I told him I thought he’d make a wonderful dad, and we chatted for a while longer. We talked about how we didn’t want to be like certain older people we know, who’ve grown older and bitter and seem to just be waiting to die. We wanted to grow old and grey but never lose sight of the joy in life.

At this point, the Beatles’ song “Girl” was playing over the musak. Stephen surprised me by reaching over and pulling me out of my chair. And we slow-danced in the middle of Panera Bread.

I can’t imagine losing sight of the joy in life while Stephen is around.

Over the moon,
michelle