My very first: fifteen, at the beach. First with my husband: second date. First of a college roommate’s: she threw up on his shoes.
Each pivotal as well, marking a turning point in the relationship.
When Sir Thomas leaned in for a surprisingly delicate and unslobbery show of affection, I knew I wanted more time with him.
He’ll soon be coming home with me. But not as insta-service dog, all programmed to my every need. No, like with any strong partnership, we’ll need time to begin the dance of making room for one other, disrupting routines that reveal our charming as well as annoying quirks. And just as best friends and lasting marriages, we’ll gracefully step around toes and occasionally trip over feet.
I’m sure we’ll face things we’ll need to work out. I can’t predict what they’ll all be. I’m pretty certain though that there’ll be no throwing up on anyone’s shoes.