I Michael, take thee Renee…

It was Good Friday, April 6, 2007 and I was already questioning my decision.

Here I was at the bar of the Capital City Grill on the day of our Lord’s crucifixion, having a gin and tonic and waiting for my first date with a South Louisiana Catholic girl.  Given the thoughts running through my head about this beautiful redhead I was about to meet, I was certain I’d already committed more than a few mortal sins.

“Maybe I should have waited until next weekend,” I thought.  “Certainly she would have told you if today wasn’t a good day for her.”  That was all the convincing I needed.

I’d first seen her photo two months earlier on a pop-up menu on Yahoo! Personals.  She sat curled up in white rocking chair on her porch, a porch I would later spend hours with her on, with what I’ll always describe as a come-hither gaze.  She, however, would forever insist it was nothing more than a warm expression.

“Another, sir?” the bartender interrupted.  At that moment my phone buzzed.  A text from her:  “In restaurant.  You here?”  I quickly closed the tab and walked inside.

She was backlit as I entered the restaurant, but her red hair projected a glow that would, throughout our relationship, prompt total strangers to approach her and tell her how beautiful she is.

I shook her hand and she smiled.  I reintroduced myself beyond my web presence and sat down next to her.  Convention says a man should sit across from a woman on the first date, but I really didn’t want to be that far away from her.

Like all first dates we searched for common interests and common people.  Turns out she knew an old childhood friend of mine.  Even went out with him once.  But throughout the wine, dinner and dessert I found myself being more taken by that smile and that red hair.  I found the evening passing much too quickly.

It was wonderful spring night as we left the restaurant and I suggested a ride around town in my new Tahoe.  It had a sunroof and I quickly deployed it as I headed away from downtown.

We stopped at Sullivan’s for a nightcap.  It was there she commented on my Rolex.

“That’s a beautiful watch.”

A moment of truth.  “Thank you,” I said. “It was $15.  Downtown Shanghai.” 

Somehow I knew that truism wasn’t going to be a deal breaker.  This was not a pretentious woman.  We laughed and she never again questioned my watch fetish.

Back at her car downtown I prepared to say goodnight.  No matter how old you are there’s always uncertainty in that moment.  But she didn’t hesitate.  She leaned in and kissed me for longer than I was expecting.  She pulled away, smiled and kissed me again. 

It’s usually an hour’s drive from downtown to Wakefield, but that night, as I returned home, road seemed never-ending.  She and that kiss were lodged in my brain.

And since that April night it’s been seven wonderful years with a beautiful woman who’s shown me nothing but selfless love.  She took care of me during my first illness and I credit her with saving my life.  She now stands ready to do it again.  I know I don’t deserve her but somehow God saw past my gin and tonic that night and has kept her in my life. 

While Renee and I have traveled across the country in our seven years together, winters in Hawaii, summers in Santa Fe, Christmases in New York, nothing can compare to our trip to Paris last month.  We went to Europe to celebrate our seventh anniversary April 6.

The weather was perfect, the food magnificent and the wine beyond compare.  We climbed the Eiffel Tower, strolled the Louvre, ascended the spiral staircase of the Arc de Triumph and, with she as navigator, traversed the City of Lights on foot and by rail.

But what I’ll always remember most about that trip was our walk down the Champs-Elysees.  It was mid-afternoon and sun was shining.  A gentle breeze had most Parisians snugging up their scarves and turning up collars.  As I walked beside her, her spring scarf tied loosely around her neck, her sunglasses covering those beautiful blue eyes, her red hair reflecting the afternoon sun, I realized I was the happiest man in the world.  Right at that moment things were perfect.

For the next three days we returned to the cramped quarters of the Paris Buxelles Hotel, recapping the day’s events in each other’s arms.  We laughed, we loved, we lived. 

My travels over the last seven years have forced me to leave Renee behind quite often.  I’ve set foot in 16 countries on four continents and there have been nights when I miss her painfully.  And now, with the uncertainly of this disease, it grieves me to think I might have to leave her behind once more.

But this woman I’ll marry tomorrow, Memorial Day, May 26, 2014, my 54^th birthday, will forever be part of me, my life and lives of my family.  For whatever time God choses to give me, I’ll always have my wonderful Renee and Paris in the spring.