The Fool

This morning I dragged myself out of warm flannel sheets to  meet Holly at the gym for a 1 hour ass kicking/sculpting workout.  Holly is a sweet 22 year old, tiny,  blond and I love her. She pushes me hard, and we giggle alot.  She is simple, sweet, and in love. 

This morning Holly told me that she  recently eloped with her boyfriend of 8 months.  He is in the Air Force and being sent to San Antonio for boot camp, basic training, and all that jazz.  When she tells me this I am elated, I feel my heart burst open and suddenly in the middle of my leg press I have  tears running down my face.  I love that this still happens in the world, that love can move us take great leaps of faith, and who gives a damn about a net?  She goes on to tell the story of  how he gave her the ring in a hot air balloon, and how they both cried.  Awwwww.  I have now done way more than my second set of 20 leg presses, but I don’t want her to stop, so I just keep going. 

Finally we move to the racquet ball courts for some lunges and squats as she describes San Antonio as being a “romantic city” with a river walk and gondola rides. Her voice is echoing and the fluorescent lites are blinding in here, but today I am not going to complain.  I am absorbing this sweet foolishness, she has hearts in her eyes and not a thought of “what if?”  I used to be this way. 

 I remember being in love in my early twenties, not even considering the possibility of  Brent not being “the one”, I had no concept of the complexities that would come into our almost 9 year romance.  How we would be torn apart by life and simply growing up and apart into the people we were becoming.  We both just dove right in, heart first.  I see myself in Holly, I love her.  I don’t tell her my story, I don’t warn her.  It doesn’t cross my mind.   After we finish our workout, I hobble up some stairs to dance on the elliptical for 30 minutes, my heart still happy and aflutter.  It is then that I know,  Holly is my idol.

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