Three months after graduating high school, I met my wife, the love of my life. Sandy, my best friend, collaborated with him and arranged for us to meet. I can still remember him standing on the front porch, hands in the pockets of his loose slacks, a Spitfire shirt, and his jet black spiked hair (he’d been invited over for a ‘kick back,’ old school jargon for a small gathering of mates).
He had light eyes, dark hair, broad shoulders, and a smirk that made you wonder what he was smirking at. Throughout the evening, we discussed everything from family to plans.