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June Fourth. Day 270.

Twenty-seven years ago today, Roger and I got together. Here’s a little piece I wrote about when we met and how we started:

When Roger and I met, I worked at Bank of Boston in Springfield, MA as an assistant head teller. Tyler was three at the time and we lived in an apartment in Southampton, close enough to Cumberland Farms to walk over for a frozen Snickers or dark red Slurpee.

I became close friends with Roger’s sister, Sherry. In May of 1995, he came home on leave to visit her, and they stayed with me in my apartment, having drinks and playing pitch. We listened to the radio and even called the radio station.

Sherry was asleep after the night of cards went into tomorrow, and Tye was sleeping in his room with the door closed. Roger and I connected in our communication and were not ready to stop talking and call it a night. Plus, I wasn’t done soaking up the view of his face.

“What country was your favorite to visit?” I asked. I was fascinated by all the traveling he was able to do in the Marine Corps.

“I would have to say England,” he replied as he flipped through his photo book. I can still hear the crinkle of the plastic cover. One thing I noticed was that he never initiated the talks about him or his career. He didn’t hijack the conversation. It seems a trivial observation, but it was the first one I remember having, and it stuck to my brain like dried oatmeal on good china.

We finally slept and all of us woke the next morning and got ready to go to Santa’s Land. We rode the train, fed the llamas, and held hands while we walked along the path.

That’s the story of the beginning of us, years and years ago, many moons and many memories. I’ve been an Adams way longer than I was a Forester, and although I love the name I was born into, more of me was born the day Roger and I became a couple, and although we lost him, that part of ME is still alive. .

1 thought on “June Fourth. Day 270.”

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