One Ordinary Errand

"My photos look like shit," I said eloquently.

And my husband, Rob, said, "Do you press the button on the screen?"

"Yeah," I replied. "What else would I do?"

That's when I learned that if I use the volume button, I can hold the phone with two hands, and somehow the photos turn out better.

Well.

More than eight years ago, I walked into a cell phone store because my phone camera was terrible.

A friend and I had visited a labyrinth one evening. Her photographs of the labyrinth and the moon looked beautiful.

I was jealous.

So I went to price a new phone.

There I was in a short white dress with large red-and-white earrings, even though this errand was the only thing on my calendar.

My future husband sold me a phone.

We started talking while the phone was downloading.

The conversation flowed effortlessly.

We were both Midwesterners. We liked a lot of the same things. We laughed easily.

I complimented the music playing in the store.

He told me he'd made the playlist.

And because I am who I am, I responded with something wonderfully dorky like, "Making a good playlist is a true art form."

To which he thankfully did not reply, "Ma'am, your phone is ready."

Instead, he got it.

At one point I remember thinking, I hope he asks me out.

That was not a thought I had been having about people.

When I finally left the store, Rob handed me his business card with his personal phone number written on it.

"As far as I'm concerned," he said, "our business here is officially over. Do you want to go to the county fair with me?"

Reader, we have still not gone to the county fair.

Not once.

That evening we talked for an hour and a half.

The next day we went on an adventure.

And we've been together ever since.

It was supposed to be an ordinary errand.