And on some of those mornings Rachel would say, "We need to trim that beard of yours." Just as she had said the day our kisses began.

So imagine the scene of me in professorial suit and tie, usually tweed. Sometimes no tie. Sometimes a sweater with my leather bags. This 18 year old girl in a tight little pair of sweat pants and tee following me to the door, her tangle of auburn hair fallen around her shoulders, sparkling brown eyes, pressing her hand to my chest leaning up on tip toe and giving me a soft little kiss on the lips each morning. I simply started to reply,...