“It was summer; the night was hot. Strolling down the cobbled streets of Nantucket in July was always a treat. Teenagers, children, moms, and dads, all out and about. The Gaslight Theater had just emptied into the far end of Union Street. Couples, families, and teens streamed urgently along the quiet lane. Heading in one direction only, I decided to follow. I remember the sound of a piano echoing into the night as I crossed behind the Opera House. Nantucket at its finest. The year was 1986. That was the year I met my wife.
I followed along, some distance behind the throngs as they made their way across Water Street and took the corner at Broad. And then I stopped; the crowd had stopped to form a line. The subtext of the conversations shifted from the rumbling narratives about the film to the excitement of “what flavor!”
I had never been down this street at this hour. Surely, something magical was about to happen; the air was thick with excitement.
That was the night I first set eyes on my wife. While everyone waiting in line was fixated on the newest Juice Bar flavors, my sights were on the blond scooper behind the counter. I knew then that this moment was indeed special.
These days, when summer casts a warm glow upon us, and we are out for a moonlit walk, we can still feel it. Magic.”
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