Memories are ethereal.  Vapor and mist, brought to life by a voice.  I am here to give voice to my wife, my partner, my love. 

It feels as if I have known Jill forever.  I am not certain that I know who I am without her.  I have no memory of a specific first encounter.  The first memory I have is pelting Jill with spitballs (and receiving the same in kind) in Ms. Broughton’s Earth Science class.  Ms. Broughton must have been a relatively new teacher because she did not yet enjoy the iron command of the classroom that some of the older veterans did.  The stern visaged spinster, Ms. Carpenter comes to mind as an example of the disciplinarian class we were wan to cross.  Ms. Broughton was a full six feet of grace and permissiveness which the pimple-faced freshmen in her class were more than happy to exploit.  So here begins a love story, crumpled paper wads winging their way behind our good teacher’s back, covering the floor with a dusting of grayish white.  Two of the many combatants just a little smitten with each other.  This is where we first noticed each other.  It was not what you would describe as a mature relationship at it’s beginning. 

I was new to Gulf Breeze, Florida and a freshman at GBHS, home of the mighty Dolphins.  This was my sixth school of my academic career to date having freshly arrived from Newport, Rhode Island.  I was a clumsy and uncertain youth appropriately lacking self-confidence.  Gulf Breeze was a community where many of the students my age had known each other their whole lives.  I was the interloper and sorely felt it.  The good friends I developed (and still maintain periodic contact with) were by and large also newcomers to the village.  My ninth grade year was one of freshman football, swim team, making friends, and exploring who I was.  Jill was one of many new friends I made that year.  We did not do much together beyond engaging in cellulose warfare during the ninth grade.  I was too busy snorkeling, fishing, and enjoying the wonders of what was for me a Florida Paradise. 

It was in tenth grade we had our first date.  It was the GBHS homecoming dance and it was not memorable.  Jill was lovely but quiet, while I was clumsy and uncertain.  I ended the evening certain that we would not date again.  So much for my ability to predict the future. 

Jill’s mother invited me to her sixteenth birthday party three months later.  I don’t know what had changed but I was enamored.  From that day forward we found reasons to be with each other.  At sixteen, Jill was able to drive.  I was not (I was after all dating an older woman).  She would pick me up for picnics at Fort Pickens, dates at the beach, and trips to the mall.  I was taken with her long brown hair, her beautiful smile, her gentle brown eyes, and her long sexy legs.  I loved her sense of humor, her thoughtfulness, and her benevolent nature. 

Our courtship however pedestrian, felt electrical, magical, ineffable.  We were sure we had created a miracle!  We were Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, Rhett and Scarlett in-love with each other.  Jill and I were certain we had invented eros and that we alone were privileged to experience the headiness of such wonders.  With time I realize that this is an extremely commonplace conceit.  Many adolescents believe that they are the progenitors of such experiences. 

No, our beginning not rare, but there was a miracle here nonetheless.  Somehow from that awkward, almost embarrassingly adolescent beginning, a truly marvelous relationship was born.  Not as a result of any great wisdom or prescience, but instead luck and a beneficent God blessed us with what has become a true love story.  This silly teenage affectation has grown into a mature and enduring regard and love for each other.  The relationship simply worked.  It was not always perfect, but it was almost always kind, gentle, and respectful.  On most days it was loving.  We were good companions and friends.  We were able to support (with practice) our individual pursuits and allowed each other to grow.  We took adventures together and loved that!  It has been a wonderful run!

I plan to post other recollections.  I am not a terrific story teller and am poor at the recollection of details.  I will do the best I can.  I invite you to contribute as well.  Send me pictures or anecdotes and I will post them.  Send me messages to Jill, and I will post them.  Help me to paint a picture of a life well lived and well loved. 

Shalom,

David