I woke up this morning with a vivid image of my ex in my head — the image of D the first time I saw him. I don’t know where it came from or why I saw him so clearly in that form. Did I dream of him? I don’t recall a dream.
The Charlotte Airport. August 13, 1972. Eastern Airlines had hired both of us and we were heading to Miami for three weeks of training along with several other new employees from the area. At the time, one of Eastern’s largest reservations facilities was located in Charlotte.
D caught my attention that day because he talked a lot — and he had a rather loud voice. He provided a distraction as I tried not to worry about spending the next three weeks away from my three little daughters. He kept trying to make jokes about Eddie Rickenbacker. I had read Eddie’s memoir. I didn’t think the “jokes” were funny.
D was more than six feet tall. He was very, very skinny. His blond-streaked hair was curly and cropped just short enough to gain him employment with the conservative corporate giant. (I learned later that he had to get a haircut in order to be hired.) I didn’t notice his beautiful blue eyes at the time, but I couldn’t miss his Yosemite Sam moustache.
My first impression? Forgettable — a young college kid who talked too much because he was nervous about his new job.
The end…or maybe not.Photos from Wikipedia
Hi Pat. Catching up with my reading. I remember clearly the first time I saw my Dashing Young Scotsman. He was in town from the Glasgow office and was arguing furiously with my boss. The next day he took me out and as we say the rest is history.
Hi Judith. I’m running horribly behind with my reading and commenting.
Looking back for me is bittersweet, but I’m finally able to reclaim what is actually my history.
Hey Pat – Those kinds of memories are so interwoven with who we are today that they will always be a part of us. Sending love and prayers to you and yours –
Thank you, DJ. I can’t figure out what triggers such memories as this one but I’m slowly learning to be grateful for them instead of wishing they would go away. I appreciate your prayers. I hope your daughter is doing okay. At least we can send up prayers for each other. And I do.
Remembering is beautiful & heartbreaking at the same time, Pat.
It is indeed. If only we could declare a day of fun memories–nothing sad. We could make an assignment of it and write down every fond, fun memory for a whole day. I think I’ll try it. Where’s my notebook?
Love you, Chickie.
I agree with Kim… And reading your post reminded me of the first time I saw T. Didn’t think much of him either, but then, I wasn’t paying attention. 😉
Did T, like D, pursue relentlessly? I was too flattered to ignore him.