The beginning and back again

[muckefuck]

It seems that fall has come in right on schedule: Yesterday, it was 80's (sorry, caitalainn, you know I mean "80s") and muggy; when I left the house today, it was 62 and the relative humidity was 61%--and dropping. It looks like a week of clear, pleasant weather is ahead of us. Thus truly is the time when a powerful feeling of pity for anyone who isn't in Chicago wells up from deep within me.

Labour Day, 1997. monshu and I meet at the steps to the Art Institute (at the "right paw, third claw" of one of the lions, as we fixed a few days previously). Before we go in, we stop into a cafe across the street for a little refreshment--and some clarity. He asks me point blank, "Is this a date" and I explain my definition: If both people think it is a date, it is. Well, do I think it's a date? Yes. So does he.

Since that day seven years ago, he's had a permanent place in my heart. It must be a failure of imagination on my part that I find it difficult to imagine my life without him.

Comments

[keyne.livejournal.com]

Happy anniversary, and here's to many more!

[snowy-owlet.livejournal.com]

Big fat dummy.

[prilicla.livejournal.com]

Happy anniversary! The Art Institute was a good choice for a first date, too. Because I'm sentimental, I'd like to revisit the places we went on our first date periodically, but The Stars Our Destination bookstore and Cardinale's restaurant are long gone.