Mia Cara Rick....

We met at JFK airport in September of 2004. We were on our way to England.

I want to write down every second of the moments we shared before we knew that we would fly home together hand in hand. Walking to the gym together to get a pass to workout, eating across from each other at the dining hall, having sex in hostels...but some of it I have to keep as our secrets...ones that only we will forget to remember.

There was one night back in ER we spent up talking and talking like we usually did….and he left to go to sleep. I had this rush of emotion and I just couldn’t think straight. I wrote down all of this in a note. Asking him questions, telling him that I was just as apprehensive as he was but for all the wrong reasons. I was pacing the room, note in hand, trying to decide whether or not I should slide it under his door. Is this childish….a note? Should I make him uncomfortable giving him this impression, what if it ruins what we already have after just 72 hours? What if this is too good to be true? Every word that he says is just perfect, his face, his lips, his BODY….his passion for such simple things…his passion for EVERYTHING that I dream about. I walk to the door, pull myself together and stand looking in the mirror…and I actually whispered to myself out loud…."This is it….placed right in your lap….he’s…" A KNOCK AT THE DOOR.

And it opens so abruptly I almost scream. I can feel that its him, I’m just cursing myself for not hearing his door open so I could have been prepared. I only hope that he’s come back to grab my waist and the back of my head and pull me toward him with his strong arms for a kiss to make me melt right there with his beard brushed up against my cheeks, and finally feel all this perfect love whisper its way entirely out of my body…

"I left my journal…." he declares as he just breezes right past my sweaty forehead.

"Oh."

I wasn’t nervous. He always made me feel just right. I was just tingly….from head to toe. I wasn’t embarrassed that he may have caught me whispering to myself in the mirror….because I knew he did the same thing….and that’s why I knew that I absolutely had to give him this letter.
So….cowardly enough…I waited for him to return to his room and slipped it under his door minutes later. I went back to my room. Paced. Laid down, stood up. Looked in the mirror. Wrote in my journal. Thank God I could write in that journal, I lost track of time. He must have snuck out of his room again because I didn’t hear any doors open or close….a shuffle in the hallway…nothing. Then I feel him outside my door again. Only this time his shadow shoves a note under my door. I waited a few milliseconds….knowing that he had returned the gesture so the note wouldn’t be all that discouraging….and leaped to the door grabbing the note. "For Theresa’s eyes only xoxoxoxox" I hesitated…only because of the previous question of perfection. It was as if nothing else in the world mattered anymore but falling in love with him. It was my other half! The one that would make me laugh until I couldn’t breathe for the rest of my life, the one who would throw flour in my hair while he makes me pizza with his solid hands, the one who would take pictures of me when I wasn’t looking, the one who would let me fall asleep in his arms every night and run his fingers through my curls, the one who would tell me secrets and stories about all of our dreams and memories, the one who I could NEVER EVER be without. I could breathe better than I ever could! Just looking at his handwriting made me certain, like I had seen it before as a child or in a dream, and even then it made me an idealist! I was in complete control of making my life flawless…Brilliant! The note answered my questions and left some for me to figure out on my own…which I did seconds later and am still figuring out today…. He was the one person who would share moments with me… No matter what happened next, having him with me was all that mattered. I wanted every second to be filled with him…boring ones, exciting ones, sweaty ones, small ones, sad ones, stupid ones, hysterical ones, crazy ones…every single time I thought about my life from that point on I wanted it to remind me of us. Every time I think back about some memory I wanted him to be in it, no matter how big or small. I would make sure that my memories would be flooded with him….every single day…. and that’s just what I’m doing.

So, when Willy asked me if I believe in fate...I couldn't just say yes or no. I told him that I am grateful for it…that I don't understand it, but I thank God for it. I also thank God for control over my life. The control that lets me fall in love over and over again every day.