meeting (Although he may tell the story differently, here's my version.) JMF and I met when we were both in our teens and both interested in other people. Besides those similarities that may otherwise skew a 15 and 16 year old boy and girl away from each other, we felt closer and bonded in some way. Now, 7 years later, although we are not the same people who we originally met, we have a similar bond, but in a different form. I was living in Connecticut and he was living in Massachusetts, but his friend Ron, who I was interested in, had been calling me and writing me ever since we met at a (squelch) Michael W. Smith concert. JMF was a friend of Ron's and, along with a van full of other people including J.'s girlfriend, they came down to Connecticut one May afternoon to visit me and a friend of mine, Jill. JMF and I had an amazing conversation in the back of that van and I fell slightly captivated by his blue eyes, his very caring way of hugging, and his ear-length brown hair. He looked like a mid-1990's soccer player. Well, he was. I didn't care he had a girlfriend. I didn't want him sexually. I wanted Ron. I was more than happy to just write back and forth. Which we did for a while. We both failed our first attempts at driver's licenses and both broke up with significant romances around the same time. We lost contact though, while he went into the Marines and I went to college. In July 1997, he wrote me. And we "met" again, familiarizing ourselves with who we were then and who we are now. The rest, though, is endlessly sappy, except for a strange breakup and reuniting last February, and will be kept for another day.

Joan Miro, Dancer   prev     next calendar