I just arrived in Florida on a business trip, and passed by a sign for Kissimmee on the way to my hotel. I can’t help but smile when thinking back to the first time I traveled to Kissimmee. Back in high school, our concert band participated in a competition at Disney. My high school sweetheart was not in the band, and he may have been slightly jealous that I was traveling with a bunch of his friends, and not him. He wrote me a note, and folded it into a square, and passed it to me at the end of the school day before my trip. Inside it asked, “Will you Kissimmee when you get home?”

I did.

He took up the guitar soon after that trip. We didn’t have guitars in the school band, but he definitely didn’t have to worry about me choosing a sax or trumpet player over him, especially since he wrote a song just for me.

Alas, the song was recorded on cassette, and I haven’t heard it in ages. I suppose that’s how romance goes. As George R.R. Martin wrote, “Life is not a song, sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow.”