I remember Monday

I remember....falling in love with your daddy.

Daddy and I lived together with a few of our friends, way before we started dating. I was 19 when I started living with him and he was 21. We lived on Canfield Street in Burlington and I loved it. I loved living with "the guys" and I loved being down town. I loved the parties we would have, going to school, working, staying up late, having people over all the time. I just really loved living there.

When I first started living with daddy, I was a little intimated by him. He was a manager at Burton Snowboards, whereas I was a college student. He balanced his checkbook; I didn't have a checkbook. He hung his towel to dry after every shower, whereas my towels usually landed somewhere on my bed creating a damp spot on my comforter. His room was literally spotless, and my room.....well.....not so much.

He was so smart, serious, moody, quiet, drawn in. I was the complete opposite (well...except for the smart part! LOL!) He was the one everyone went to for advice - about money, about work, about life. He was the responsible one of the group. I remember he would go on long car rides in his convertible. He would just grab his black leather jacket, wave to us, saying "See ya in a while" and just leave. We never knew where he would go to, but he could be gone for hours. I thought it was so sexy that he would just go on drives to clear his head and think.

Slowly, very slowly, he and I started hanging out more. One day, he asked me if I wanted to go on one of his drives - something he had never asked anyone to do. Of course I went and we just drove and drove. He wasn't headed to anywhere in particular - we just drove around Vermont. We probably stopped for lunch along the way - grabbed sandwiches and ate near a lake somewhere. We talked. And talked. I would hang on his every word - dying to hear what he would say next. He was so smart. So serious. I just loved to hear him talk.

Over the next year, we would stay up late and talk a lot. We would go on drives. We even went to Maine together once. Looking back, it seems a little weird and I can't quite remember why we decided to go together, but we went to Maine overnight - went to an awesome pub, drank, ate and laughed. Talked the entire time there and back. (Yes - our friends thought we were crazy. They figured we were dating and just didn't want to tell them. They made fun of us and told us just to tell them we were together and we looked at them like they were nuts! Us? Together?! Haa!)

One day, our friend Darren mentioned something about Matt's art work. I just stared at him. Artwork? What are you talking about? I've never known Matt to do any sort of art - he'd never mentioned anything to me. Darren took me downstairs and dug through boxes and boxes to find Matt's art portfolio. When I pulled it out, I literally gasped. Tears instantly came to my eyes. It. Was. Breathtaking. I couldn't believe the paintings and drawings he had done and the amazing talent he had. I asked Matt later why he never painted anymore and never got a great explanation. I think it just kind of fizzled out for him.

When I was 20, my mom finally told me I was in love with him. She said it jokingly, but she was quite serious. She and my sister told me that I told them everything about Matt - from what car rides we had been on together, to how work was going for him, to how often he blinked. LOL! I, of course, thought they were ridiculous. I mean, Matti? No way. Nope. He had become my very best friend, but nothing more.

The more we hung out together, though, I realized they were right. Somewhere along the way, I had crossed the line and fallen in love with him. Completely. In love. Here's the thing about falling in love with your best friend - I knew everything about him; good and bad. I lived with him and saw all his bad habits, saw him grumpy, sick, tired, drunk, sad, happy and everything in between. And I loved him. I loved him so much and had no idea what to do about it. I can say this without a doubt - he was (is) my soulmate. Our friendship moved beyond anything I had ever felt. He seemed to know what I was feeling and thinking. He knew exactly what to do to pull me out of a bad mood. How to make me laugh. And I did the same for him.

The year I realized I loved him was actually one of the most painful years of my life. I was in love with my best friend. My roommate. Matti. It was awful. There were many tears shed. Many late night conversations with my girlfriends about what I should do. Tell him, not tell him, tell him, not tell him.

I told him I loved him on my 21st birthday. All of our friends went out to celebrate and at the end of the night, it was just him and I. I finally worked up the courage from the past year to tell him how I felt. I said, Matt. There is something I have to tell you. He stopped me and told me he knew what I was about to say. My heart skipped a beat. But, no...I had waited this long to say it and I wanted to actually hear the words coming out of my mouth. I told him I loved him. That I had loved him for a long time. Not only was he my best friend but that I wanted him to be more than that. He just stared at me. Then he said some words that we can now laugh about, but which crushed me at the time. Oh. Ummmm. I thought you were going to thank me for a fun time tonight. Now it was my turn to stare. And stare. Finally he said that he'd better go to bed. And I sat. And sat. And sat. And cried.

To be continued...