Stranger Than Fiction

“Here’s sunglasses for you and an ipod.  Just lay your head back and open your mouth.”  Enya is now singing to me and two women–faces covered in masks–peer down at me and stuff my mouth with cotton.  One says to the other how she prefers Alvin and the Chipmunks to Harry Potter.  The drill begins, and the voices of the women–the dentist, her assistant, and Enya–are drowned out.

I walk down the sidewalk of 7th and Nicollet and a taxi cab driver yells out of his van…in French.  I have a light jacket on and I’m hot but it’s November 9th.

In the last week and a half I’ve been on six (or eight, depending on who’s counting) dates.  (Yes, Mom, with the same guy.)

And I have to ask myself, am I dreaming?

No.  The dentist was real.  Very real.  Indian Summer is actually happening.  And, Ben Durbin is not a figment of my imagination.

I haven’t blogged in a while, and not for lack of news but rather for lack of knowledge about blogging etiquette.  But you’ve already read a number of my life’s ups and downs, and so I will share this bit of good news with you too.

A few months ago I met Ben after church.  Over the last seven or eight weeks, we’ve been eyeing each other, thinking about each other and sharing small conversations here and there.  He asked me out a few days before Halloween, and my heart did a little leap in my chest.  It’s as if I’m watching a rose blossom in time-lapse: it’s happening now, and so fast, and it’s beautiful.  But how much do I share?  A relationship is a private thing, and yet this is real.  A number of our dates have been in community (halloween parties, ultimate frisbee, an international community dinner, a birthday party) and that’s important to us.  It’s only been a little over a week but it’s also been an unforgettable, incredible week.  bd has been an answer to prayer, a gift.  And for that, I am grateful.