The Eleventh...

As it is officially past midnight, we are on to "September 11th" - a big day: somewhere, it's someone's birthday, somewhere, someone's death day.

For me, it's Anniversary Day.

Settle down, kids, I am not losing it. I am remembering.

The Boy and I met twice. I remember both of them, he remembered only the second time - as well he might. It was the one that "took" so to speak. It was a baseball game (I don't play - balls hurled at me and me with only a stick for defence - not a good plan) and it was June and he was lovely and tanned (thank you friend who thought of him when he was hurting and another friend needed sailing crew) and Blue-Eyed (Paul Newman eat your heart out). I was attractively attired in an umpire's mask (use your imagination) and full of an afternoon of checking out several pubs. At the end of the game, there was a beach party and this tanned and blue-eyed vision was the only one who had thought to bring a hatchet. "Smitten" would be an understatement.

That was Saturday. The 9th.

By Monday the 11th, I was figuring out how to call him if he didn't call me and then he did and the rest was 33 years and 15 days of adventures.

The 11th always makes me smile.

Even now.

Such blue eyes.