Chasing her down the block ...

Tuesday night at the Brewery, I saw a girl I'd never seen before (very rare here, especially this time of year). I fantasized about talking to her, but I didn't. The more I looked at her, the more she seemed familiar, like we'd met before, but I couldn't place it. She was dressed awkwardly, very not-giving-a-shit: a floral print dress over white long underwear, well-worn hiking boots, a silly floppy-eared hat. It wasn't until she left that I realized that life is too short to not talk to her. I chased her down the block. I don't remember how I introduced myself or what we talked about on the block-and-a-half walk to her car. I don't remember her name. I do remember her telling me that she was in Whitefish visiting a friend, was spending Thanksgiving in Polebridge, works for the Bob Marshall Wilderness Council, and, of course, lives in Missoula. The next day, lying in bed, I thought about her more and realized how I remembered her. I had never met her before; she looked a lot like Rose, E.T.'s sister. E.T. and I, Rose and her boyfriend (now husband), John, and E.T.'s parents went to a wedding in Morningside years ago. We all spent the night at E.T.'s parent's house in Irwin. At four in the morning, Rose and I were the only two still awake. We were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from a bottle of tequila. I don't remember what we talked about, but I distinctly remember her asking me if I thought E.T. and I would get married. "If we can make it through the next six months, I think we'll spend the rest of our lives together." We only made it four more ...