The first thing I noticed when I walked into the kitchen late Sunday night, returning from Pasadena, exhausted, was the filter holder to my coffee pot sitting on a towel on the counter. In that second I realized two things: I had forgotten to empty and clean the coffee pot before I left, and Tom had done it for me. "I love you," it said, as clearly as if he had said it out loud. For one thing, Tom doesn't drink coffee. It was totally a gesture for me. He knows I hate to leave the old grounds in there. He took the time to check it and do it for me. He thought about me.
Twenty-six years ago this morning, I started calming myself down. By the time I walked down the aisle to join my life with his that evening, I was almost comatose. I still could hardly believe this was true – I was really getting married! Less than a year before, I had resigned myself to being single forever. Then my knight in shining armor rode in, or that is, stepped up, and asked me to dance.
How did he see past the dark clouds I had gathered about myself that night? What did he see in me? What drew him to me, made him ask me to dance? I'm still not sure, but I'm so glad he saw something – still sees something – and I'm glad, so glad, I said "yes."
Happy 26th Anniversary to us…
Long Hollow 
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