It was July of 2003 and my friend Jessie and I were going to go swimming at a friends house in Mendon. I remember that day being so hot that I didn’t want to do anything, but Jessie had talked me into it. She picked me up from my house in her VW Cabrio, popped in the brand new Yellowcard CD, & cranked it up. We decided to go visit our friend Meg at work before we went to Mendon…just to be annoying.
Meg’s sister was working the booth at Kiwanis that day, so we got in for free (because we REALLY needed that $2). Meg and Trisha were sitting side by side on the the Upton “beach”. We snuck up behind Meg and tried to tip her over in her chair. She loved it, a lot. We stood and talked with them for awhile, trying to convince Meg to leave and come swimming with us and Katie. After a few more minutes of harassing and pleading Meg to abandon her lifeguard post, I heard someone behind me say “Hey, I’m back. You can leave Trisha”. Soon, standing in front of me was Andrew.
I was used to getting butterflies in my stomach, whether it was standing back stage right before the annual dance recital, or handing in a school project that I knew was slightly under par for me…but these were different. It felt like they took over my entire body. I was (am) a pretty shy person to begin with when it comes to new people. Even around my family I would clam up as soon as I felt a hint of vulnerability. However, along with the 8437857823 butterflies in my stomach, I felt the overwhelming urge to shutup and stare at my feet. In fact, I think I stopped talking to Meg and Jessie mid sentence.
After a few minutes (years in my mind), Jessie introduced herself, prompting me to murmur something slightly resembling the word “Emily” and went back to being silent. I warmed up after a little…laughing at all of the appropriate times during the conversation, but saying very very little. Soon enough, we had to leave.
On the short walk back to Jessie’s car, I broke my silence and said “I’m going to marry him”.