anniversary # 5 and # 9 too

Nine years ago, almost to the day, I was nursing a cold beer at a place called the Wreck Room in Fort Worth, Texas. Scribbling in a notebook with what a friend once referred to as a stub-assed pencil, my thoughts were interrupted by an acquaintance I had not seen in quite some time.
We engaged in some small talk, which eventually led to the question of whether or not I was seeing anybody. The answer to the inquiry was to the negative and she told me that there was someone I should probably meet. “She’s really pretty and about your same age.”
Needless to say, I forgot about the conversation altogether.
A couple of nights later, Icicle and the Kid (my band whenever I am in FW) played a benefit for the Hip Pocket Theater at the White Elephant Saloon.
The girl I should meet walked in and I wondered why my friend kept smiling and pointing at her. Then I remembered the night at the Wreck Room. I am generally shy, but had consumed enough liquid bread that I gathered up the nerve to introduce myself.
Fantastic eyes, I thought to myself.
She was an absolute delight to speak with. I even called my friend the next day and told her how much I enjoyed the experience of meeting this woman.
It was only about two or three nights later that I was sitting in the Wreck Room again, furiously writing nonsense and sucking down a few cold ones.
In she walked. She said hi and I asked her if she might want to play some pool.
She cocked her head slightly sideways. “Do you think there is an open table?”
“I shall will there to be one,” I replied with unusual arrogance.
I must admit that I am surprised she did not walk away with a frown at that very moment. But no, there was an open table and we were living together approximately three months later, if not sooner than that.
Four years later, we had moved to Mexico and wed ourselves in San Miguel de Allende in a small chapel in the botanic gardens there. No priest. No Judge. No witnesses. Just ourselves and two rings and our vows to one another.
I smile.
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