Church Ch♥ir

I remember it like it was only seven years ago. There I was at church for Sunday night choir practice when she walked in. The choir master told us she was new and would be singing with us. She took my breath away as she came and stood in the open spot beside me. (It was the only spot left. Big choir.)

I was ready for my Doe Rae Mees, wishing I had on a clean shirt and had probably combed my hair. The choir started singing "This Little Light of Mine." Her light was bigger and brighter than anyone else in the room. I was just happy to be in its glow.

After practice, I summoned up the courage to talk to her. I stumbled and stammered, fumbled and wobbled, but somehow managed to make her smile. She asked me my name, and after careful thought, I finally remembered. She said that if I put on a clean shirt and combed my hair, she would like to have dinner with me.

What a night... I spilled the soup, put too much pepper on the salad causing a sneezing fit, tipped the waiter, and offended the table next to us with my poor table manners. I was off to a rough start.

Now, here we are seven years later. She picks out my shirts and combs my hair. She taught me some table etiquette, and sometimes she doesn't mind being seen in public with me. 

What a great time we've had these seven years: me with my bumbling and her with her grace. I think we make a great team. I love her, and she loves me.

I don't sing in choir anymore, but that's for the best. I will never stop singing the words "I love you" to Kathleen.