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88 in a DeLorean

So Will and I spent several nights last week watching Back to the Future I, II, and III.  I had never seen them before and now I think I’m a little bit obsessed.  The other night I had a dream about Will, that I think was influenced in part by the last movie.  Though I don’t remember much of a plot, I do remember this:  Will was maybe 7 years old, all dressed up in brown corduroy and a fringed vest.  I think I remember a cowboy hat, too.  I didn’t put it together until now, but I’m fairly certain the showdown scene between Marty and Buford, where Marty is decked out like Clint Eastwood in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly had something to do with it.

So all of this Back to the Future, retro, cowboy stuff has been floating around in the back of my mind since last week.  Yesterday, though, a fitting thing happened while I was holiday shopping.  First let me say that the stores have been wild lately, and I often find myself overstimulated as soon as I step inside–what with all the advertisements, lights, and people in close quarters.  Sometimes I forget what I’m looking for.  Yesterday wasn’t much different, except maybe there were a few less people than usual.  So I was looking around in the aisles when I heard Elvis on the radio, and immediately began to smile, feeling this delight bubble up inside of me.  You see, I thought immediately of Will!  It felt as though he were there with me, as though it were some sort of sign.  I say this because Will grew up with a love for Elvis–it is one of the reasons he learned how to play the guitar in the first place.  More than that, though, I remembered how just a few months ago I nudged Will to sing karaoke at this fall festival we went to, and to my surprise he got right up on stage and dedicated the cutest rendition of Elvis’s Don’t be Cruel, to me!  It was probably the most romantic thing he has ever done for me, which is saying a lot because he is romantic to the core.  He totally nailed the Elvis look and croon, too.  I didn’t even know I liked Elvis!

So, it was with a bit of absurd delight that I heard him playing on the radio.  All at once, I had this feeling of Will’s presence, mingled with a bit of his Elvis flair and the memory of the little cowboy in my dream.  What I felt was this overflow of love, which I imagine is kind of like hitting 88 miles per hour in a DeLorean.

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