It was the most boring day of the year, ever.
Hot, humid, the type of day that drags on.
Minutes became hours.
Every step I took felt useless, unproductive.
It was the first day I knew Dan.
We didn't know what the future held.
But it all began
On the most boring day of the year.
The seaport was slow, only few scattered people in sight.
Each store contained the hum of an air conditioner
Droned out by the rhythmic melody of an old man
Presenting canoes, metalworking, or the sawmill.
We joke still, about the hours we wasted on particular Saturday, years ago.
Times change, people change, but our friendship remains,
Weathered through the years, through the problems,
And through the good times.
But on my dresser, the ticket stub lays,
Keeping memories of the day it all began,
The most boring day of the year.
5/15/2002
