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One Enchanted Evening...




One Enchanted Evening...


It was a magical night in September, hot but not oppressive. The Gulf breezes were not the only charm that Biloxi offered. The ancient majestic oaks and palms swayed in unison to the surf. Alive, green and red with oleander and crocosmia blooming brilliantly along the shore.

We drove down on a Friday evening, just the two of us. We arrived at the Biloxi Hilton and took our bags up to the room on the seventh floor. It had one charm above all else: a balcony overlooking the Gulf and the sound and smell of the gentle fall surf.

The two of us were anxious. Not knowing, expectant like two children awaiting the arrival of Christmas; not knowing if we had been naughty or nice. Was this the night?

We dressed and went to dinner at a little seafood restaurant a block down the beach. We had a dozen raw oysters for an appetizer and washed them down with Dixie beer. We talked about nothing searching each others eyes. I had scallops and you had shrimp. We shared, quite unable to discern which was the better of the two.

We stayed there until the drinks began to make us yawn. You said something about getting up tomorrow to see the town. I dropped a fifty on the table to cover our check.

The walk back to the hotel you stumbled but I caught you. Somehow my arm just stayed around your shoulder like it belonged there like the sea or the sand.

We arrived in the room for the plat de r?sistance: champaign, Rothschild 1977.

Two glasses on the balcony. The moonlight, the timeless symphony of the surf, the songs of the gulls: your head on my shoulder- our first kiss I will remember forever. [/color]




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