A beautiful woman walks into a bar. She has wild, dark, curly hair. She wears glasses. She has a smile from ear to ear that shows off a mouth full of braces. She sports a heavy scarf, as if unaware she’s in Phoenix. She approaches with great confidence. She takes a seat across from me, in a booth near the front window. The bar has an English theme. She orders Corona Light and a basket of mozzarella sticks. We talk, we share thoughts and memories, and time slips away. Her laughter is infectious. Her braces are covered with cheese and marinara that she deftly clears away by whistling. Eventually we part without making future plans.
That was ten years ago today.
I saw the woman again three weeks later. She is now my wife.