"So where are we going anyway?" he asks.
I shrug my shoulders, stare into wide-open blue prairie skies.
"I don't care," I say. "Wherever I'm with you."
He looks at me for longer than a quick second, smiles a wide grin, grabs my hand and drives west.
We are wandering sidewalks we once knew well enough to navigate by both moonlight and dusk and a few glasses of wine and are amazed by the newness of where these paths are taking us in the place we once called home.
Seven years has morphed a small, quaint campus into an elegant and broad university.
We wonder at the new halls and libraries and centers, constructed of limestone and completed with walk-out balconies.
But, despite the new fancy additions, we meander over to the older side of campus because I'm still completely drawn to the quiet charm and beauty of the music building crawling with vines and alive with a melody I can't quite put my finger on
but can tap my foot in time to.
I catch his gaze, and he smiles.
I am waiting in the car while he runs into the pharmacy to get a band aid, and through the open windows of my car I hear a baby cry .... and cry and cry and cry.
A terrible scene unfolds before my eyes, and just as John exits the store, I'm reaching for the door handle about to fly out of my chair and over to the van.
He catches my wild eyes and I spit out, disgusted, the happenings. He quickly moves so as to still me in my seat, and we find the nearest police. We wait as they check on the child. My heart pounds until the officer comes back, explains the child is fine ...
I nearly choke on my tears as the van and police cars pull away leaving us together in silence.
I catch his gaze, he grabs my hand and he gives me a weak smile.
We are sharing drinks at a friend's bar, trying to relax well into the evening hours, and while he's talking about grown-up things I'm marveling about the glitter on the walls until he stops talking and smiles at me again.
And I finally ask him what his deal is.
And he says
it's just that he's been getting these tiny glimpses
of who I used to be mixed into
the who I've become all day long.
And that he never really knows where I'm going
and thus where we're going
but that he's just glad that during these past seven years
he's been with me
we've going all of these places
mundane and extraordinary
expected and never dreamed of
and we've been going at them