Prologue
A boy never really forgets that first love.
I’ve always believed that we’re shaped more by our mistakes than by our successes. There’s a thing called an error of omission; that is, a mistake that results from your failure to act, rather than an error of commission, where you do something to find it’s the wrong thing.
Years ago – all too many years ago – I made an error of omission. The error involved my best friend, the best friend I ever had, and the one thing I never told her before we both left our hometown for college.
It started the summer after we graduated high school. For years, I thought it had ended when we both left for college. Many years afterward, I was fortunate enough to be given a second chance.
Prairie Ridge, Minnesota – the late Seventies
She was tall and slim, with dancing russet hair and flashing green eyes. Her name was Ceilidh O’Connor. ‘Ceilidh’ is an old Gaelic word meaning a ‘dance or celebration,’ and no girl was ever more aptly named. Life was a never-ending celebration for Ceilidh; her lopsided smile was infectious, her laugh enchanting, and her carefree nature made everyone love her. She had a temper, too, of course – her Scots/Irish background, no doubt – but I always knew how to bring her back, how to make her smile again.
Yes, everybody loved Ceilidh. I certainly did. Ceilidh was my best friend.
We spent a lot of time together, although we probably seemed an odd combination. She was the pretty, vivacious, ‘popular’ girl that everyone knew. I was the quiet kid everyone ignored. I’ve never been the social type and at seventeen I was maybe even more retiring than I am now, but somehow with her it was different. Somehow Ceilidh always knew how to bring me out of my shell.
We talked about everything. She came to me for advice about boys. I let her – and only her – read the stories I’d tapped out on the old Remington typewriter I kept at home.
But we never once went out, not on a ‘date.’ We spent a lot of time together, at movies, at my house, at her house, riding around in the horrible old car I’d managed to buy, but not as anything other than friends.
Then we graduated. We left Prairie Ridge, Minnesota. I went to the University of Colorado at Boulder, and Ceilidh went to the University of Iowa’s pre-med program.
I never told her how I felt about her. And I always figured I’d never see Ceilidh again. And, for almost thirty years, I didn’t.