I had yet to meet your brother. It was a little intimidating, I must admit. I had heard all the stories from not only you, but your mother and father. I had, by this point, seemingly been impressive enough for your parents and sister; yet, I felt that the approval of big brother would be the toughest to accomplish.

It was Thanksgiving day. I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to bring something to put on the table. I wanted to make you proud, I guess. You told me not to bring anything. That wouldn’t fly with me, because I just HAD to bring at LEAST something. Why you wanted me to bring candied yams and marshmallows is still beyond me? So, I decided to bring a part of my family’s tradition to your family’s table. Being Italian and all, pasta was naturally my choice. But not just any pasta. Oh, no. This had to be special and impressive. No, this occasion called for homemade lasagna.

I spent the night before, prepping and putting everything together. I found just the right sausage and put in just the right amount of seasoning. I had everything ready as we left for your mother’s house. I had even cooked it just half way so that I could finish cooking it after we arrived. We walked through the front door and exchanged handshakes and hugs with your family. I threw the lasagna in the oven and we started putting everything on the table.

You sat to my left, Brad across from us. I’ll never forget the sarcastic pronunciation of “lasagna” and the semi-disgruntled face he had. I guess it’s understandable; not many people have lasagna with their turkey. Looking back, I must admit, it may have been a little over the top… but again, I wanted so desperately to impress your brother. Thinking I had struck out with the lasagna, we went on with our meal. We hung around a bit longer, and I don’t recall anything much more eventful going on that evening.

A few days later, to my chagrin, you received a call from your brother. The message you relayed was that Brad was thankful that I had brought the lasagna, because he had been eating it for 2 or 3 days straight. Success!

I don’t know where this story is going, but I needed to write something. This Thanksgiving, I’m working. And as I sit at this desk and write to you, I think back to that Thanksgiving. I speak to you every night and have you in my thoughts always. I hope that you will visit me in a dream again sometime soon. I never really remember my dreams, but I never forget the ones with you in them. Thank you for everything we shared. Thank you for watching over me. Thank you for making me a better person. Thank you for helping me grow up. Thank you for showing me another side of this world. Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for the love we had. Thank you for the most beautiful picture I have ever seen. Thank you for that last kiss we shared. I’ll never forget you, Girlfriend.

Love,

Boyfriend