"Love is not consolation, it is light." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
I'd watch her restocking books at the students’ arrival, then checking new ones out as they left. Her joyful demeanor was the first thing I noticed. She had an infectious cheer and a beautiful smile. I could hear her laugh from the other side of the library. To hear that laugh still makes me smile. She was boisterous, often cheesy and, once you spent some time with her, thoughtful and introspective.
We met in the computer lab of the library on campus and eventually began spending time with the same group of people. As evenings out with friends drew to a close we'd find ourselves pairing off, spending a little extra time together. We became great friends.
We shared an inquisitiveness and creativity about everything: that was characteristic of all our conversations. In one moment we'd be talking about God and Kierkegaard and the merits of West Side Story or Casablanca the next. We spontaneously painted a picture together one afternoon and then played chess. I miss those times we had just to ourselves, randomly choosing to do what we'd like: going to a museum, walking next to the river in Norfolk, talking in the library parking lot until 4:00 a. m.
Having kids and jobs and all the trappings of adult life makes those times seem so foreign. But those memories get sweeter the more I grow to love her. We never knew then how precious those days were.
One late night as we were walking we crossed a bridge. We paused, as Leya was talking, to gaze out at the pond below. For emphasis, recounting some event of the day, she threw up her hand and it caught the side of her head, sending her glasses into the water.
"Ah, my glasses!"
"Oh, man," I replied.
"Are you going to jump in and get them?"
"No!" How chivalrous.
"Oh! Oh, those were brand new!"
We both laughed.
Later that night we laid down on the bridge, side by side, gazing up at the stars, talking about who knows what. At some point our conversation paused and for a moment we just laid there silently.
"I like you," I confessed.
"I like you too," Leya replied with a smile.
"No, I
like you."
"Ohhh."
And so a friendship led to dating that led to an engagement that led to marriage. And eight years later I get to celebrate the vows I made to my best friend; the person who gives more to me than I could ever give back; who's loved me through my best and worst.
She is my bride and the person I hold dearest to my heart.
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Happy anniversary, Leya. I love you.
