Late Bloomers

While excitedly watching the victorious end to the Saints/Vikings game last night (WHO DAT!), I remember thinking that I never thought I would see this day come. Finally, the Saints, MY Saints are getting their day in the sun. Having been a longtime Saints fan, we’ve undeniably hit more than a few low points, doggedly cheering for a team that took 26-years to have their first winning season. I grew up in the days when the Saints were the Aints and people wore paper bags over their heads when going to a game. But I was always a believer. They’re just late bloomers, just like me.

I have always been a bit behind the blooming times. It started back in my single digit days when I was six. I remember all the girls in my kindergarten class started getting ‘boyfriends.’ Naturally, I wanted one for my own, so I boldly asked a boy named Sal to be my one-and-only. He said no. (In retrospect, a boy names Sal couldn’t be going very far in life, so that might have been a good thing)

This pre-elementary rejection unfortunately sparked serial singledom that spanned grades K through 12. I was on the brink of a) believing that I was unbelievably hideous and would never, ever have a boyfriend, and b) looking into the possibility of becoming a nun when I went to college.

Shazaam! After a few short weeks at college, I bloomed. Better late than never, right?

The same series of events continued after college when all of my friends and acquaintances abandoned their singlehood and all got hitched. All of the same feelings that I had in my post-Sal, pre-bloom days began to bubble to the surface. I waited, and waited, and waited for my time. I started to lose hope and began to plan my life as a spinster with cats.

And that made me sad.

For a long, long time.

Until I met Mr. L.

After our first date my petals began to expand and I knew I was about to bloom. And bloom I did. And now I will become his wife.

Which, in a weird way, brings me back to the Saints. I find it so wonderful that we are both being asked to dance at the same time. Late bloomers are we, but bloomers all the same.