11 years ago today, I offered to give Darby a ride to watch the fireworks with a group of friends from church. He brought his huge binder full of CDs and played different songs for me in the car. Now, Darby feels like that was hugely pretentious, but, at the time, I thought he was so cool.
We stood together on top of the Baylor parking garage, watching the show. I wanted desperately for him to hold my hand---I even did that thing where I rested my arm right next to his on the railing, but he didn't do it.
After the show, we went over to our friend Daniel's house where some of the guys set off their own fireworks. I have always had a fear of fireworks, especially when they're being set off by teenage boys. But I might have played up my fear just a little bit, so that Darby would comfort me. It worked. :) He finally held my hand. Now, he tells me that he saw through my act all along. Oh well.
I think we've only spent one 4th of July apart since then (when I was in Mexico). We've watched fireworks on the suspension bridge in Waco, at Nelson Park in Abilene, in downtown Nashville, on the beach in Florida, in tiny Monticello, and in Champaign. Every year, I think back to that first 4th of July. Both of us were so nervous. I'm so glad Darby took the plunge and reached for my hand. Neither of us had any idea that, 11 years later, we'd still be watching the fireworks together, holding hands.