Happy Hanukkah!

Rejoice, it is the festival of light, and there are actually lights! Last year the power was out, and it was ironic and a little sad. =/

I brings back memories, though. Last year, the first night of Hanukkah was a Friday, and I remember this because I had saved all of my friends' gifts (fruits and vegetables with drawn-on faces) for that day, the last day before winter break. But, of course, Seattle is schizophrenic, and a huge storm came in, knocking out power for up to a week in some areas of my town. School was cancelled, and I... well, I don't even remember what I did that day.

But I remember that my best guy friend (now my lovey and best friend) and I had a date to go play DDR at the nearby arcade and were horribly bummed when the power didn't come back on all day. We ended up hanging out at my house with my mom and stepdad, lighting the menorah and doing the usual Hanukkah thing-- in the dark.

We spent the rest of the night running amock, wherever there was power, and getting prepped for his family's Christmas party the next day. Lucky for them, their power came back early Saturday morning; and I guess it was lucky for me, too, because I used his electricity to straighten my hair that day.

But anyway.

Later that night, closer to curfew, we ended up sitting in his car and just talking. We had been doing a lot of talking in the couple of months before that. I had only met him the year before, and we had been good friends in high school, but having him away at college seemed to make us closer.

I don't know how long we sat in his car. I want to say an hour or more, but my sense of time is almost just as bad as my sense of direction. But just that time in his car is probably one of the most memorable points of our relationship, for me. I remember just sitting there in his car in the dark, our seats reclined while we talked. And when I think about it now, I realize that it was such a big deal to me. It was the first time I had ever thought about him with the possibility of being more than friends. I had those nervous, fleeting thoughts of "Is he going to kiss me?" "Oh my God, he's going to kiss me." Despite what cliches have taught us all, he did not kiss me.

We had bought a couple of dart guns at Fred Meyer, and I was having issues with mine.

"This one doesn't work."
"Really?"

And then he shot me in the face. I know that for most people that doesn't sound romantic, but thinking about it makes me so happy, because it's just... one of those things. We joke about it now: "Yeah, you thought I was going to kiss you, and instead I shot you in the face." It makes me happy to think about it, the sequence of events.

I don't know why I waited so long to approach him in "that way." When I think about it now, it was obvious. While he was in Hawaii during winter break, we talked just about every day. When he was home, he would run to my work to visit me, and there was one week where we hung out every day.

Most nights, we ended up laying on the floor of my room, listening to music and watching colors on the ceiling (some kind of music-color projector thing) that reminded me of the northern lights. We shared a pillow a couple nights, and our heads would be close together.

After that, the rest is history. I went to his house every day after school started up again. We had dinner with my mom, he took me to my dance class. And I kissed his cheek goodnight. One day we watched a movie at his house, laying on his bed and holding hands under his pillow. And then the next day...

well, that was the big day.

almost a year ago...