Monday, July 17, 2006


When I was in college, I planned to marry a boy. Two months before our theoretical wedding date, we broke up. We were young and impetuous and couldn't handle each other, couldn't handle the commitment, could barely handle ourselves. That said, when I look back on my relationships with the benefit of hindsight, he's one of the few men in my life who have actually loved me well. (To be honest, it's not like I've had a better track record.)

Now it's years later -- he's a preacher, married, has a son. I'm married myself, and practice a religion that fluctuates but sure as heck isn't Christian. I get the feeling his wife would rather we not be close, which I can understand.

Every so often though, I wonder where he's at, how he's doing, how he spends his days. Last month, while Google-stalking, I discovered he and a few friends have been putting together an intermittent podcast. It focuses on issues within their denomination, something which doesn't interest me much and of which I have no knowledge.

But I download it and listen to it anyway. Because it has his voice, and his laugh. It reminds me of when we were young, and it makes me smile.