He Calls Me Annie

He calls me Annie.

Vestiges of the time when emails between us were new and he actually thought that Annie was my name.

At the time, my messages came from my work computer registered under the name of Annie Lawson—my middle and maiden name—acting as a pseudonym for the company blog I occasionally penned. Not sure anyone wanted to read anything from a woman so far from the youthful customer demographic. Best to keep it a little bit cloaked.

I liked Annie. A mix of classic Anne of Green Gables and Annie Hall, the character brought to life by Diane Keaton. I mean, who doesn’t love Diane Keaton? If only I looked as snappy in hats and ties and tweed trousers as Diane.

He was matched to me by an algorithm and my youngest son (a story for another day). 

And today he gave me a ring—

with a promise—

which is wonderful and sweet in and of itself. But it was especially wonderful and sweet because he slipped it on my finger a short while before driving me to the hospital for a surgical intrusion we had not planned. 

I’m not exactly in A#1 condition. Not at my best fighting weight. Not chalking up too many crossfit sessions these days.

Here’s the deal, though. I think my son (and I) chose well. Knowing fully what unanticipated sickness looks like—he is a widower—he’s choosing me anyway. Warts and all. 

I’m a sucker for classic writing, hence the Anne of Green Gables reference. There’s one other timeless classic that sticks out to me today, too. “In sickness and in health.”

Annie is a lucky girl.