  That Monday. You remember. It was snowy and cold. People were freaking out about how stormy it was. All I could think about was how I was going to have to get out and shovel my entire walk, front and side porches, and make some sort of attempt to clean the city-owned sidewalk in front of my house. I lucked out, as the snow was light and I made short work of it. As I was finishing up, Jon stopped over.
It was the first time Id seen him in over a year, and even though he was bundled beneath all of those winter clothes, that same warmth radiated through all those layers. It reminded me why I had fallen in love with him all those years ago, and in just one instant, it all came crashing back to me. And then I remembered, I had fallen in love with the person I wanted him to be. In that one moment, I was back there, three years ago and infatuated. At once, I felt silly and ridiculous, like an awkward seventh grader. He said it was good to see me, but all of that seemed to be happening in slow motion, like I was detached from the conversation and watching it from five feet away. When I managed to return to myself, we were talking about our jobs, his recent MBA and our families.
Before he turned back and walked across the street, he said it was good to see me and that he hoped to see me again soon. I smiled and agreed, knowing it might be months before I spoke to him again. As I walked back toward my side porch, I thought only of that summer, waiting and hoping with unrealistic expectation that I might be delivered, once and for all, from seventh grade. 
