I once read that the real gift of marriage is that someone knows your story. All the little inconsequential details are shared. Sure, it isn't material for the history books, but the milestones and the mundane are remembered together. It matters to have a witness.
Old friends work the same way. I was stunned recently when a good friend, a dear friend, someone I spend time with every week and with whom I discuss my most personal thoughts, asked my maiden name. How could she know the very things that keep me up and night, my hopes and dreams, and not know that I am a McClain, with a “little c” and a “big C?” That’s fundamental knowledge, right?
But my Webb classmates know that. You know that I was weak in science and also in PE. You may remember that I started Webb in 5th grade and was in Mrs. Prince’s homeroom. You know that I ate baked potatoes with cottage cheese for lunch. You recall that I loved choir but dreaded wearing my women’s chorale gown. What a failure of custom fashion. And the blue – total nightmare. You probably remember many, many things that I wish you would forget. But you are my witnesses. And I yours.
So what little things do you remember? Care to share?
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