A t the beginning of 2000 I moved to Christchurch in Aotearoa New Zealand to study midwifery. I had been a volunteer firefighter before, so I decided to live in my old hometown of Lyttelton while I was studying so I could join their local fire brigade. It had been more than 10 years since I had lived there but not much had changed.
It still had that small-town vibe where everyone knew each other. I fronted up for training night at the brigade and recognised quite a few faces, still the same, just a bit older. There was a very tall, handsome young guy standing at the back who I recognised as Grant.
He looked very shy and serious but when he smiled it was like turning a light on. His mum and my mum had been friends when we were younger, but we didn’t hang out in the same circles; I was seven years older than him and we went to different schools. I had been in the brigade for a few months when we had a function at the fire station and, with the courage of a few drinks in me, I danced with Grant to Neil Diamond’s Forever in Blue Jeans.
By the end of the night, I was a bit wobbly on my feet and he did the gentlemanly thing and escorted me home. A couple of days later he called and invited me to go to the movies with him. He later said it took many attempts at picking up the phone and putting it down before he managed to make the call (this was back in the days of telephones with handsets).
The date was “nice”, not earth-shattering and I could tell he was nervous, but I cou.