Most kids love to hear the story about how their parents met and fell in love. Laura and I were no different, and would often ask them to tell us over and over.
Me: So tell us again how you guys met?
Dad: Ohhh, your mother! She came to Finney as a substitute teacher. I saw her walking down the hallway with her long dark hair and hoop earrings. She was soooo pretty! So I waved to her, like this (He smiles and wiggles his fingers like a little boy). Do you know she just walked right past me with her nose in the air!
Mom: I wasn’t wearing my glasses! I didn’t see you.
Dad: Hmmm. Ok, if you say so. Anyway, I kept asking your mother out and she kept turning me down.
Mom: I let you take me on that one date to the track.
Dad: (chortles) Girls, your mother finally let me take her out and I took her to the Hazel Park race track. But it started pouring rain and then I couldn’t find my car…
Mom: He left me standing under an awning for half an hour while he searched for his car. He looked like a drowned rat by the time he picked me up.
Me: And you let him take you on a second date?
Dad: We were friends. All of the teachers went out after work and got together on the weekends. I knew I wanted to be with her but I had to wait till she came around.
Mom: He finally wore me down after four years.
Me: Four years?
Dad: Your mother always thought she would be with some tall, blonde and handsome Polish guy, not some little old shit like me!
Mom: Thankfully, I listened to my heart and married my best friend instead.
There’s nothing particularly unique or intriguing about this story, but I was always captivated by their tale. I love it for its simplicity and innocence. I love it because it served as a model for my sister and me when we found our life partners.
My parents had a pillow on their bed that was stitched with the quote “Happiness is being married to your best friend.” Nothing could be more true.