I, Ivy Magee, stand on the beach. Waiting for Seth Harris.
It’s been five years since I saw him. We’d e-mailed each other since then, but that’s it.
A week ago, Seth sent me an e-mail that asked me to meet him on an Alabama beach that our families used to vacation on when we were in Jr. High.
Being from Bama, it was never a long trip.
My heart is fluttering.
Even when we when were teens and “just friends” he did this to me.
I remember his sky blue eyes and dark blonde hair as I dig my pink pedicure in the soft, white sand.
Seth Harris’ eyes.
He had a ruff ‘n’ tumble cowboy-ness to him, but his heart was sweet.
Seth was a poet’s soul in a bull rider’s body–he’d gotten all A’s in English class in High School.
A crisp, salty breeze sweeps across me as I remember this.
Maybe I shouldn’t have worn shorts with my heather gray long sleeve top–it is October.
I’m so nervous, what if he thinks I’ve changed?
What if he’s changed?
Why am I doing this?
I took this beach meeting offer because I thought I felt a tug of God to do so.
Right now, I’m hoping it was the Creator, and not the cheese pizza I’d eaten that night–because if I make a moron of myself, I’ll die!
I’ve always been known as a klutz, and still am.
God help me.
I’m getting the urge to run home, er, at least to my SUV.
Breath in, breath out, breath. . .
“Hello, Ivy.” I hear a baritone voice.
Breath, breath–don’t turn blue–breath.
“Hi!” I squeak from lack of air.
That was lovely.
Seth smiles as he walks up to me in his blue button-up and faded jeans.
My gut melts into my feet.
I turn to meet him. . .and I stumble over driftwood, ending in a face plant in the sand.
Seth helps me up with a chuckle, “Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” I dust off sand, “Watch out for that driftwood.” I quip.
We small talk a while.
“Not much has changed with you,” I smile, “except that.” I point to his goatee.
He just smiles, “Like it?”
I grin, “Yes.”
He looks into my green eyes, “Lots has changed with you.” he brushes a wisp of my dark red hair out of my face.
Oh, no, here comes the let down.
“You’re even prettier than when you were eighteen.” Seth grins his lop-sided grin.
Relief flushes my being.
“Thanks.” I say.
That was a unique line.
We walk down the beach and talked, while the sun sets and casts orange and pink along the horizon. I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since we were eighteen. It feels like we never parted.
After an hour, Seth reaches down and squeezes my hand in his, and I look into his face that is lit by the little sunlight that’s left.
I see God.
I see a romantic.
I see a hunk!
Ok, lost it there a little.
Well, the tug on my heart was God, not pizza, and I’m glad I listened.
God never lets you down.
And this time I think Seth and I will have more to our relationship than “friends” in God’s good time.
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