Meeting Fred

I've never been one to write or journal, but after attending a memorial service this morning, I felt the need to remember Fred with written words.  He truly was and is, the love of my life.

The first time I saw him, he was in the hot tub at the complex where we both lived.  When I walked up, he said, "my name is Fred, I had a stroke, I don't talk much."  That was all he said that night.  I don't remember who left the hot tub first or if we even said good nite.

I do remember thinking he was so handsome, with his white hair.  A few days later, I told my daughter about the encounter.  I found myself looking for him at the hot tub and in the morning where a group of residents met for coffee.  I told myself that I was not interested in friending anyone who was ill, I had been through the loss of a dear friend before.

He slowly started to talk when we would see each other in the hot tub, and a group of residents had started to gather at the hot tub a few evenings a week.

It was a couple of months later, in August, when Rose, one of the residents, asked if everyone had seen Fred's red corvette?  I don't know why, but I looked at him and said, "I've always wanted a ride in a corvette."  Since a group of us were going to the MoneyPit, for breakfast, the next morning, he said he would give me a ride to breakfast.

When I went down to the lobby, the next morning, he was waiting in front of the entrance with the passenger door open for me.  Some of the ladies looked jealous!

I guess you can say the rest is history.