Most kids love to hear the story about how their parents met and fell in love.  Laura and I were no different, and would often ask them to tell us over and over.

Me: So tell us again how you guys met?

Dad: Ohhh, your mother!  She came to Finney as a substitute teacher.  I saw her walking down the hallway with her long dark hair and hoop earrings.  She was soooo pretty!  So I waved to her, like this (He smiles and wiggles his fingers like a little boy).  Do you know she just walked right past me with her nose in the air!

Mom: I wasn’t wearing my glasses!  I didn’t see you.

Dad: Hmmm.  Ok, if you say so.  Anyway, I kept asking your mother out and she kept turning me down.

Mom: I let you take me on that one date to the track.

Dad: (chortles)  Girls, your mother finally let me take her out and I took her to the Hazel Park race track.  But it started pouring rain and then I couldn’t find my car…

Mom: He left me standing under an awning for half an hour while he searched for his car.  He looked like a drowned rat by the time he picked me up.

Me: And you let him take you on a second date?

Dad: We were friends.  All of the teachers went out after work and got together on the weekends.  I knew I wanted to be with her but I had to wait till she came around.

Mom: He finally wore me down after four years.

Me: Four years?

Dad: Your mother always thought she would be with some tall, blonde and handsome Polish guy, not some little old shit like me!

Mom: Thankfully, I listened to my heart and married my best friend instead.

There’s nothing particularly unique or intriguing about this story, but I was always captivated by their tale.  I love it for its simplicity and innocence.  I love it because it served as a model for my sister and me when we found our life partners.

My parents had a pillow on their bed that was stitched with the quote “Happiness is being married to your best friend.”  Nothing could be more true.