Memory

It was a Thursday night in late January. I remember sitting in the passenger seat of my dad’s car after a long soccer practice. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I became warm with excitement. Was this the release of endorphins from the running I had been doing or was this because I was finally on my way to Nicholas Ranieri’s house?
I sunk into my seat and took a deep breath. Dad caught on, “Nervous Jac?” he pat my knee and gave me a wink. I smiled. “Dad! I can’t believe we have to get these papers signed tonight! I’m still sweaty from practice—and look at my hair!” He laughed at me, as he often did, and with a sigh said, “You look beautiful to me Jacquelina.”
I was a freshman at Oaks Christian High School. It was a new school, with new friends and I had invited Nick Ranieri to be my date for my first High School dance. He was a good friend from middle school, cute, athletic, and funny.
I remember pulling into his small driveway with an excitement of the unknown bursting through my every limb. While in my baggie soccer shorts and with shin-guard lines still embedded in my calves, questions surfaced in my head as I approached his yellow house, “How long will it take for his parents to sign this permission slip? I hope the dance on Saturday is fun. What will he think of my practice uniform? Does he like me as much as I like him?”
I had never liked a boy so much in all my short teenage life. It was his friendship I valued, his caring nature, his athletic lifestyle—even the way he treated his mom. I liked his flirtatious smile, the way he would laugh with his friends, how he would send me texts about my day, and most of all I loved the way he would hug me like he really meant it.
My finger pressed the doorbell and within seconds a beautiful, smiling face opened the door, his mom welcomed my dad and me into their home with joyful and generous hugs. Their house was warm from the burning fireplace and smelled like a delicious dinner had just been served. I instantly felt at home. My feet shifted on the wood floor and turned me down a hallway where I recognized another bright smile. “Hi!” Nick said, and before I knew it I was wrapped up in another friendly embrace. “Hi!” I responded-- the butterflies in my stomach took flight once again, “I brought the permission slip you need to sign for Saturday.” “Great! I’ll have my mom take a look at that.” He passed the slip of paper to his mom and the four of us spent the next few minutes touring their home and commiserating with each other about the cold weather, and our hectic team schedules.
“Jaci,” Mrs. Ranieri began to reminisce, “I remember how busy you must have been last year playing volleyball for our middle school, while also playing club soccer. How you ever did both, I will never know!” Dad responded with his quick and witty sense of humor, “Laura and I nearly passed out from exhaustion from all the driving!” With sincere laughter Mrs. Ranieri commented, “I know the feeling!”
Midway through the conversation, Nick slipped his hand in mine and we left our parents to finish the petty details of permission slips and school liability. I followed him down another hallway to where he turned to face me, locked both my hands in his and asked me to be his girlfriend. I was elated to say, “Yes!”
Little did I know back then that this boy would never stop smiling at me. For the next seven years he would loyally and lovingly hold my hands, cheer me on, and become my best friend. Seven years after that tender Thursday night in January, the same four hands would lock together as the same, smiling boy would slip a ring on my finger and ask me to be his forever.