A Decade of Love

Ten years ago tonight, we were on our first date. We sat close in the movie theater. I had my hand on the arm rest between us in case he wanted to hold it. It may have been our first official date, but we'd experienced this closeness before. On that school trip to Atlanta, when we sat up the whole night talking. Or in creative writing class when we logged into each other's accounts to read each other's work and be moved by it.

Tonight we had dinner. We dressed up, and I wore my new necklace with it's beautiful, large jewel and even larger significance. We went to a nice restaurant where a woman played piano in the corner and candles lit the room. We couldn't stop holding hands across the table. I hoped we looked like a couple on our first date again, because it felt a little like that. Exciting. Fresh. But so much better because it was strong and real. And good. And tonight instead of kissing me on the forehead and saying good-night, we can curl up together and look forward to another day of love, another ten years, another ten decades if we're lucky.