The weekend that changed everything

St. Patrick’s Day has always been a special holiday for me, being half Irish and growing up in Boston. But it’s been extra special since 1987.

I met Jody, who was living in Denver at the time,  on a business trip in August of 1986. We quickly became good friends, exchanging contact information before parting ways. There was an undeniable spark between us, a hint of something deeper waiting to unfold. Over the next several months, we stayed in touch through phone calls and letters, keeping our connection alive despite the distance.

Early in the new year, I called her to see how she was doing and to catch up. As we wrapped up our conversation, I casually tossed out an idea. “Hey, my roommates and I throw a St. Patrick’s Day party every year—it’d be fun if you could come.” I fully expected a polite decline, knowing the odds were slim.

To my surprise, Jody didn’t dismiss it outright. “Okay,” she said. “Let me think about it.”

Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. “Well, I just bought my airline ticket—I’m coming!” If I had been eating a Twinkie at that moment, I probably would have choked on it. “Great!” I said, and I meant it.

The excitement quickly turned to mild panic. I lived in a rented house with three other guys. It wasn’t Animal House, but it was close. I had also mentioned that we had a pool—conveniently omitting the fact that it was just a kiddie pool we kept in the driveway during the summer. And now, Jody was coming in just a few weeks. First order of business? Buying curtains.

Thankfully, my mom came to the rescue, not only buying curtains but hanging them, too. I cleaned up the house, and somehow, all the party plans fell into place.

When I picked Jody up at Logan Airport, I greeted her with green carnations and champagne. From that moment on, the weekend felt like something out of a movie. Friday night, I took her in a limo to a romantic dinner. Saturday morning, we toured Boston before heading home to the party, where she met all my crazy friends. On Sunday, we went back into the city for brunch before I dropped her at the airport for her return flight to Denver.

As soon as she got home, she called me. “You need to get out here soon! I just have to see you again!”

That was the weekend we became more than just friends.

Since that year, St. Patrick’s Day has always been special to us, a holiday we cherished and celebrated every year. It became a part of our story, a tradition that would never fade.

Always has. Always will. Forever.

Happy heavenly St Patrick’s Day, sweetheart.

Love you all