Yesterday my dad’s friend from college and his wife were supposed to come for lunch. At dinner the night before, in anticipation of their visit, we were recalling the last time they had visited, when I was almost 2 years old. My dad mentioned that they had come with their son Eric, who was approximately my age. I asked him if he was the one that they had taken a picture of me kissing. He was.
The next day, as I talked with F. and my friend E. in Russia, the rest of my family hastily vacuumed the house and took care of the mountains of laundry in preparation for their visit. All of a sudden I heard the vacuum stop and my dad yelled up, “Abby, you can stop cleaning now! They aren’t coming!” (Ha. He thought I was cleaning. How cute.) Eventually I ventured downstairs to find out why.
My mom told me how she had talked to my Dad’s friend, how they had to go to a family reunion or something that they had just found out about. Then she said, “Oh, and Abby, he told me to tell you not to be disappointed, but Eric is happily engaged.” I wondered why I would be disappointed that someone I didn’t know at all was engaged. She said, “He figured since you gave him his first kiss, there might still be some feelings there.”