We headed to Saint Augustine for a couple days.
You drove, and Charlotte and I stared out the window at what was mostly grassy fields.
We talked about all of the old places we were going to visit, and the favorite foods we were going to eat. I especially talked about the food.
As we tried to find a parking spot we drove past our old attic apartment.The one with the slanted ceilings and the heatless winters.
And even though I look at it now for what it is: a barely studio-sized apartment that was within our very small budget, it still holds the most special place in my heart. As the place where we made our first real home together. The place that housed the dresser you would one day hide my engagement ring in. The place where we ate way too many tacos and spaghetti, just because it was cheap. And even though you hate spaghetti, you didn’t complain.
We walked down Saint George Street. We talked about all of the memories we had of different places. Things that nobody knew but us.
The place where we would meet for lunch most days. The route we would take when we walked Koosh. All of the times you surprised me.
There was a table of mustaches, that I think I can pull of almost as well as you. We found out that heaven is indeed real, and is made up of french fries.
We drank pumpkin beer, watched for familiar faces, and let Charlotte experience waves for the first time.
We packed a picnic blanket, and after stopping for cupcakes headed to old our squirrel park. You gave me three of the four cupcake halves.
And after feeding the squirrels, we just laid in quiet.
My head on your chest, in the spot you have always said can’t possibly be comfortable. But, in fact, is my most favorite place.
More than all of the food, and the places, and the memories, this moment was my favorite. Laying on a blanket, that really could have been laid anywhere in the world.
And right then, I realized that all of this wasn’t special to me for what it was. It was special because it was all with you.
