the rush of remembering

I am the queen of punctuality. I am Miss Perpetually 20 Minutes Early. I am the girl who has nightmares about running late, usually involving creepy clocks all going at warp speed like a Salvador Dali painting on meth amphetamines.

So Saturday night, when I managed to walk in three minutes late to my little sister Sam's wedding, I felt certain that other than being late for my OWN wedding (which I have, in fact, dreamed about), this was basically the realization of my second greatest fear.

And honestly, WHEN does anything EVER start on time? The one time I'm not 45 minutes early, that's when.

So not only have I walked into the back of the church in the midst of the processional, I'm now deeply regretting my decision to wear a red blouse and red heels (and a red necklace and red bracelet, AWESOME) because I feel like they have merged with the red flashing arrow that's floating above my head next to the neon-lit sign that says, I'M LATE PLEASE STARE DISAPPROVINGLY.

I grabbed a seat just in time to see Sam go down the aisle. It was my first full Catholic wedding, and the service was absolutely stunning. Lengthy, sure, and at least on the bride's side of the church I think I was the only non-Catholic in the joint. After fidgeting awkwardly with my program for close to an hour, it finally came time for the Lord's Prayer. I wanted to lean in to the girl next to me and shout every single word. See! I know this part! Do you hear me? DO YOU?

After the ceremony we all headed to the social capital of Western Kentucky, the Knights of Columbus Hall. This was when I started to have just the teensiest bit of anxiety. Because while I did know a ton of people at the wedding, I didn't really know anyone. Not in that Randomly Join Your Table at a Wedding Reception kind of way.

As the line to enter the hall creeped forward, I was praying for a seating chart. PRAYING. God did not answer my request. He did make up for it, though, by reminding me that this was a Catholic affair and guiding me toward the bar.

I knew there was a possibility that there'd be one person there, though, that I did know quite well. Boyfriend Number Two. (Other than being fraternity brothers, BN2 was Brant's roommate at the time that he and Sam starting dating -- and of course, BN2 and I were together then.) Sure enough, as I'm nervously flipping through my phone in line to sign the guestbook, I see him. Three people in front of me.

We say hello and share a quick hug and after I finish signing the guest book I run into him again. At the bar. Naturally. I see my chance to nab a buddy -- having a buddy in these types of situations is just so, so necessary and this was my one and only shot -- and thankfully he obliged. We grabbed the last two chairs at a table with one of my sorority sisters, her husband and a few fraternity brothers, and instantly we're talking a mile a minute.

It was like a splash of cold water in my face. Completely refreshing. I'd missed the way we are around each other -- it's not something I've found since then in the opposite sex, even just friends. Our mutual sense of humor hadn't waned at all.

At this point I'm definitely flirting. I can't help myself. It's been three years. I'm tipsy. And he's got these glasses he's wearing that are all dork sheik and we ALL know how I feel about dorks.

Eventually he asks me to dance -- and I can't help but be tickled by it because I hadn't imagined he would want to dance, so I hadn't been as magnetized to the dance floor as I typically am -- and it's Sexual Tension Town, population two.

And I don't remember what happened exactly, or what he said to prompt it, but a while later we were chatting at the table and I just grabbed his necktie and pulled his face to mine and kissed him.

It was like kissing a pure memory. I was so infatuated with this boy for so long, so crazy about him and I don't think that any relationship I've been in since then has matched that potent combination of feelings -- of being so young, and feeling so in love and also feeling the realization of something I'd been wishing for since I was 17. And when we kissed I was there. I was 20. I was a sophomore in college. I was at Murray. I was on Hughes Street. I was wrapped up in the most delicious slice of nostalgia and memory and remembering and it was like nothing had ever changed.

With all these old faces surrounding us, all these people whose relationships we watched spark and begin those years ago as ours was faltering -- I was somewhere else. And every second of it got inside my blood and coursed through my veins and for the first time I was able to give in to memory, without feeling heartbroken that time has whisked me out of that place. And I easily could have, I know. But the ingredients were there for something else. And we danced and danced and danced (and danced), I held him close and gave in. I've been lost in remembering ever since.


cheers,
elizabeth