She wanted me to sing; she wanted him to sing. She wanted the rounds.
"Row, row, row..."
So "Row, row, row..." we sang. In rounds. The little one singing at the top of her lungs.
And somewhere in it all my mind flashed back. Back to a very different time. Back to two very different people. Six, maybe seven years and I could hear a friend saying, "He wants to date you, and marry you, and have babies with you." And I swore it would never happen.
He would call, and email, and plan, and then find me and have words escape him. I was amused but not interested. Four conversations on how we could never be, "no" after "no" after "I'm busy" was said, and still I found him always, somehow, within sight. He knew my excuses and found ways around them. And I, I secretly wanted him there.
He was a clown; I was quiet. He was popular; I was unknown. He was overbooked; my schedule was free.
I drank coffee, and he refused. I liked to study; he often bluffed. I passed with diligence while he got by on charm. He was resourceful, and I always gave up. He was hopeful. And I was the cynic.
And so it was - one great chase and one long evasion.
But he won out. He was persistent. He was long-suffering. He was kind. And he won my heart over one tiny moment at a time.
He won out.
He won out.
And now here we are - the other side of the looking glass. Two different people in a different time, sharing one life. Having dated, having married, and having had children. We sing songs before bedtime to a little her and a little him. Each a perfect mix of us. And I smile as I look at what could never be. What wasn't possible. But what now is: