I met my wife back in 2002. I saw her for the first time across the room at the Arthur Miller conference in Stockton at San Joaquin Delta college, as part of an English class I was taking.
I had thought that she was unusual and interesting, and had a soothing voice. She had skin the color of a crème brule and eyes like night, smile like melted chocolate fondue. I had been silently praying for a new love in my life during that time in that auditorium. It seems God put me there for a reason.
I didn't think of her again, and didn't see her again, until a few months later in November I met her for what seemed to me to be love at first sight, at an Open Mic poetry reading where we were reading around in a circle in the basement of the Caffeine Den in that same town on the Miracle Mile of Stockton, California.
That night I had noticed her beauty and her presence as angelic, because not only was she beautiful and had kind eyes and smile, but she also was dressed in comfort and arts. She wrapped herself in the poetic style and the words were so soothing again.
I had prepared some poems romantically for that night without knowing that someone would be there to make a first impression to, but I was glad that I did.
I had at that time in my life been in and out of crushes and looking and praying for someone to love. In my past was one long crush and half a dozen small crushes, and only one real relationship at that time, a six month engagement which had ended three years before, with all my pride getting in the way but finally being put aside for love because I was learning from a broken heart and alone time what the value of love is.
Back to this night at the reading. The basement of the Caffeine Den, a coffee shop on the Miracle Mile, was where I had been reading my passionate dreaming poetry, sometimes impromptu but mostly off the page, and had met poets in which I had collaborated and co-edited in a book (poetry and art anthology) I was at the end of that night to give to my later to be wife, titled Darwin's Children.
The poem I read in the circle of poets was about kissing in the rain, with a desperately intense love which I idealized and had no one to connect with, but which I inflected my voice and posture towards her as I read without being too direct.
I knew the Open Mic host through our taking turns hosting, an immigrant from the African continent who had Egyptian royal ancestry who played bongos and occasionally did other events. He invited me to contact my later to be wife at an email address that she had given him to give to me to talk, perhaps noticing the chemistry. Evidently she felt a connection too. Through that mutual friend we built our future, and my peace of mind through God answering prayers with series of miracles, some much more clear after seen with eyes of faith. A few emails of intense heart stories later, we met at my apartment. After a time or two there I found out about us both being at the Arthur Miller Conference.
Donald R. Anderson. Aspiring writer. Amateur philosopher and amateur writer of Apologetics (i.e., the Catholic reasonings). Faith-driven kindred spirit.