February 23, 1997 – Sunday – 12:43 a.m.

Today (Saturday) was wonderful.  And the evening was one of the greatest of the semester.

For dinner, Tracey, Ann-Marie, Lindy, Jessica, Alex, Abigail, and I went to Mr. Angel’s house.  They invited us over to their newly built house.  It was so beautiful inside.

Abigail and I really seemed to click.  Since seven of us were packed into Tracey’s car, two of our group had to sit up front with Tracey.  In order to get shotgun in Tracey’s car, you have to say it in French.  Tracey taught me how to say it and Abigail is the only other person who knows how to say it.  So the two of us were squeezed next to each other and it was so much fun.  I love the way she laughs.

We ate pasta for dinner; so delicious.  Everyone just talked for so long.  We played the laughing game, the cup game, and even the “This is a what?” game.  The whole time Abigail and I just seemed to be talking back and forth to each other.

When it came time to leave, she hollered out “Shotgun!” in French and immediately looked at me with big, waiting eyes, hoping I would say it as well.

I did.

On the way back, Tracey reached over and started rubbing the top of my head because her hands were cold.  Abigail said, “Hey, why is no one rubbing my hair?”  So, I reached over and ran my fingers through her hair.  She leaned her head forward and I ran my fingers up and down her neck and the back of her head.

And this continued for a couple of perfect, eternal moments.

She lifted her head back up and we didn’t say anything.  There was silence, and peace, and contentment.  It was wonderful.

Oh Abigail, I pray God takes care of you and gives you the desires of your heart.

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