Day 106: Fields of Gold, Chapter 15

"Actually, Dave, neither do I."

Cue momentary awkward silence.

"What I mean is," I fumbled "I've never understood why you didn't want to marry your best friend."

(My mind is racing. Oops. I think I said too much.)

But we begin to talk.

I wish, sometimes, that I had a recording of that conversation. It was the most important conversation of my life. I know that I was bold. I know that he looked bewildered and confused. I wish that I remembered, better, what he said. I tried to practice some patience, and not to let all the things I'd been wanting to say for 18 months--no, more like 3 years, come tumbling out. But there was just so much that I wanted to say, and I knew, deep down, that I would never be at peace unless I knew that he knew how I really felt. So I told him.

That he was my best friend.
That I loved how comfortable we were together, and how happy he made me.
That I liked so many things about him.
That I was different than the 19 year old girl he had met at e.f.y. years before--that I had grown up and gotten better, in so many ways.
That I thought we should give dating a chance.

It was a long talk. What was apparent to both of us was that, eventually, one of us would get married and our friendship would have to end, and neither of us liked that idea. Neither of us wanted this best friend thing to be over.

He said he would think about it.

**
I walked inside my parents home around 11:00 that night. My mom was sitting in a chair in front of the computer playing spider solitaire. I guess she was waiting for me to come home. I walked in, leaned against the wall, sighed, and said "I'm not sure what that was. I don't even know how to explain what that was. But whatever it was? It was big."

She just looked up at me and grinned.