Snails

9 years ago I was in Israel.
To this day it has been one of my very favorite vacations. We crammed in a lot in the 5 days we were there and it really wasn't enough time, but the last night was almost perfect.

I remember that your mom wanted to take us all out for dinner. But you had bought snails to cook. 2 kilos, you bought and you were so proud and so ready to cook a good dinner. But your mom insisted. You refused to go out. And seeing an opportunity, so did I.
That's right, I didn't go out not because I didn't want to or anything like that, I didn't go because this was my chance to spend some time alone with you.
So they left, your mom and brother and my mom and grandma.
It was just you and me.
Most of the lights were out.
We started with cleaning the snails. Working closely at the sink.
Pick out all the dead ones you said.
So we did.
Scrub them clean you said.
So we did.
Make sure there are no dead ones again, you coached.
So we did.
After 2 hours of handling 2 kilos of snails making sure that they were all alive and well scrubbed.
You seasoned them.
And they went into the oven.

Then we got into a heated discussion.
"You never write me," you said.
"Bullshit," I said "I write you all the time, sometimes DAILY!"
So we went downstairs to the computer.
You logged into your email and I showed you the proof.
Gotcha!
Then, I told you all about this crazy website called Facebook!
And we created you an account.
I thought facebook would make you a better communicator... boy was I wrong!! Haha.
After dealing with the computer things and making promises, some of which were kept and some of which weren't we went back to check on the snails.

I don't remember if they were done just yet.
I remember eating bread and watching you eat some snails. That sounds creepy, it wasn't creepy. If ever there is a movie made of our relationship, it will be portrayed as a romantic watching of you.
I already knew then that I loved you. I had discovered that love the summer before, but it would take me almost 9 years to admit it.

I can't remember what we talked about that night but it doesn't even matter. I remember the feelings of that night. The sense of security and home.

How did your mom manage to keep my mom and grandma out for so long? It seems a little ridiculous now. I mean we were 2 18 year old kids. Anything could of happened. It didn't, but it could have!
I mean I remember wanting to kiss you that night. I didn't.
The next time I saw you, May 2012 I wanted to kiss you, but I didn't.
The time after that, August 2015 I wanted to kiss you, but I didn't.
But the time after that, July 2016, I didn't want to kiss you. And that's when I thought I'd moved on.
Now, here its March 2017 and it seems you still have a piece of me.

Here's to always remembering the night of the snails. One of my favorites.

Letters to you

I am a letter writer. Well, I write letters to one person. It started when he went to basic training. It stopped before he was out of basic training. Then it started again when he told me those letters were what got him through and he still had them.
I don't write often, just often enough.
Our communication is spotty, at best. Though, I have talked to him more in the last 2 years than I have all our lives.
I don't know why we keep circling back.
In fact, I thought our story was done this past summer. I visited him. It was fine but I left early and I thought that was it.
Apparently not.
I can't say that I hate hearing from him, as infrequent as it might be. He says he wants to talk about real stuff. We have phone conversations that last an hour. And yet, I haven't been able to tell him the real stuff on my end.