I’d been in Boston for a conference. They offered food in the hotel, but, Boston on a sunny, warm day? Why be inside? The sidewalks shimmered with people, the leaves shone with sunlight. A gentle breeze whisked by every once in a while and stirred things up. I went to an Indian restaurant. The day beckoned me, begging that I eat outside. The only problem was that it had begged so many others. There was one woman sitting alone. Great legs, I thought, admiring the calves protruding from a black skirt. I think I asked if I could sit with her; I remember her blushing as she held out her hand. The conversation was casual and light. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met. Guarded, but open; shy, but interested; tough, but gentle. After, we traded e-mails and I found myself smiling through the rest of the conference. A few days later, she forwarded me a joke; I responded, and we became fabulous penpals. The love snuck up on me. One day, she was laughing at something I’d said, and I grabbed her face and kissed her.