I remember a conversation we had a few years ago. I don't remember when, though I should, because he remembers everything. But I do remember the conversation though.
The town was blanketed in snow, the snowflakes were falling softly, and we were on the phone discussing our New Years Eve plans. He had to work, and I would be home with my sons. I had snuck outside to talk to him, because the house was loud from the boys yelling and loud ruckus. I think I had a feeling that hearing the boys' laughter and just knowing they were there made him sad. Sad that I was a single mother, sad that there was nothing he could do about it, but accept it. We weren't talking daily, just a phone call or text once every 3 weeks or 2 months. He had ended his marriage a few months ago, and I was fresh out of one of the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th "tries" "chances" or "recaps", of a never ending roller coaster of a relationship.
That particular conversation I remember so well, because we laughed the first 10 minutes from the silly things that had happened in our lives. I remember having to cover my mouth and hold my stomach because it was one of those deep belly laughs that made your whole core ache. It had something to do with his roommate/co-worker doing something outrageous. And picturing it all was so hilarious, because I had met that certain friend of his a year before. I remember my face hurting from smiling the entire time. After recapping the last month or so since we last talked, the conversation got quiet and I had to push my ear against the phone, because I thought I heard him humming. And he was. I asked what he was listening to. He told me George Strait. I laughed, because that was the most random thing that could come out of his mouth at that moment. I asked what song, he told me "Infinite Love" and I listened some more, and I could hear it in the background. I told him I probably heard it, but George Strait had too many songs that I wouldn't know which one it was. He told me to hold on. He must have turned up the volume and put the phone to the speaker, because all I heard was a sweet ballad and the words "I want you to know, it'll be me and my infinite love for you, its just like I promised you, under heaven above..." After listening to the whole song he came back on the phone and asked me what I thought about the song. I told him that I thought it was definitely a George Strait song. Then he told me "If I ever got married, I wanted that to be the song the Deejay played for my first dance". Confused, I asked him "Is that what they played at your wedding?" and he replied back "No".
Whenever I heard the song, I thought of snow, misspelled tattoos and first dances, because that was what popped out to me from that phone call.
Last week in the middle of cleaning (which I sometimes force myself to do), I heard a familiar song and tilted my head to the side to figure out why I was hearing it. He came rushing inside the house with my phone in his hand, looking around and running toward the couch. He was using my phone to find his misplaced phone, which was sandwiched between the couch cushions.
Infinite Love is my ring tone.
The town was blanketed in snow, the snowflakes were falling softly, and we were on the phone discussing our New Years Eve plans. He had to work, and I would be home with my sons. I had snuck outside to talk to him, because the house was loud from the boys yelling and loud ruckus. I think I had a feeling that hearing the boys' laughter and just knowing they were there made him sad. Sad that I was a single mother, sad that there was nothing he could do about it, but accept it. We weren't talking daily, just a phone call or text once every 3 weeks or 2 months. He had ended his marriage a few months ago, and I was fresh out of one of the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th "tries" "chances" or "recaps", of a never ending roller coaster of a relationship.
That particular conversation I remember so well, because we laughed the first 10 minutes from the silly things that had happened in our lives. I remember having to cover my mouth and hold my stomach because it was one of those deep belly laughs that made your whole core ache. It had something to do with his roommate/co-worker doing something outrageous. And picturing it all was so hilarious, because I had met that certain friend of his a year before. I remember my face hurting from smiling the entire time. After recapping the last month or so since we last talked, the conversation got quiet and I had to push my ear against the phone, because I thought I heard him humming. And he was. I asked what he was listening to. He told me George Strait. I laughed, because that was the most random thing that could come out of his mouth at that moment. I asked what song, he told me "Infinite Love" and I listened some more, and I could hear it in the background. I told him I probably heard it, but George Strait had too many songs that I wouldn't know which one it was. He told me to hold on. He must have turned up the volume and put the phone to the speaker, because all I heard was a sweet ballad and the words "I want you to know, it'll be me and my infinite love for you, its just like I promised you, under heaven above..." After listening to the whole song he came back on the phone and asked me what I thought about the song. I told him that I thought it was definitely a George Strait song. Then he told me "If I ever got married, I wanted that to be the song the Deejay played for my first dance". Confused, I asked him "Is that what they played at your wedding?" and he replied back "No".
Whenever I heard the song, I thought of snow, misspelled tattoos and first dances, because that was what popped out to me from that phone call.
Last week in the middle of cleaning (which I sometimes force myself to do), I heard a familiar song and tilted my head to the side to figure out why I was hearing it. He came rushing inside the house with my phone in his hand, looking around and running toward the couch. He was using my phone to find his misplaced phone, which was sandwiched between the couch cushions.
Infinite Love is my ring tone.
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