The Last Time I Saw My First Love Was on My 17th Birthday – Thirty Years Later, a Woman Who Looked Exactly like Her Walked Into My Yard

I thought about it. Really.

“My son closed a door on me. And I survived it.”

“But I’m glad he knocked again.”

“Margaret, would you have dinner with me next Friday? Not storm paperwork. Just dinner.”

At seventeen, I might have blushed. At seventy-one, I smiled.

His face softened in a way that made him look, for one brief second, like the boy with the continue reading …