Eight years ago I was in college.
I was dating a boy.
I was dating a boy named James.
He went to college, too.
A different college.
Actually, I take that back.
Eight years ago I was engaged to a boy.
A boy named James.
We lived 20 minutes apart.
30 if you ask my dad.
But if you're young lovers, it's 20.
I didn't see James every single day.
We did spend a lot of money driving back and forth for just a few hours together. This was, however, back when gas was cheaper. $1.70ish for a gallon of gas. OUTRAGEOUS!
Anyhow, back to my story.
It was Valentine's Day 2003.
I was in class.
I've been trying to remember my classes that day but I just can't do it. Probably 7 different music classes. I don't know.
After one of my classes, I went to my room.
Someone had written on my white board.
I don't remember exactly what it said, but my boy James wrote it.
Wait a minute, he had class all day too! What was he doing here? Why wasn't I looking at him? Where did he go?
I ran down the hall, towards the parking lot to find him.
But I didn't find him.
I found my van.
That's right, I drove a van. Laugh now.
My van stood out on this particular Valentine's Day.
It was decorated in pink, red and white.
There were giant hearts, window paint, confetti, candies and a huge card scattered in and around my van.
It was amazing!
My boy had driven up to my college (a huge 20 minute drive) just to decorate my van.
How sweet.
Best present ever.
Happy Valentine's Day.
love.
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