Last week my husband and I went to our friend Doug's wedding. The ceremony took place in his family's walnut orchard on a calm summer evening. They began and finished the ceremony with quotes from Battlestar Galactica, which we thought was a nice touch.
During the reception a very petite woman spotted me and said something to me in a thick Southern accent which I really didn't understand. I figured that this was probably Doug's mom, whom I had met once before way back in college, which was, like, forever ago. I assumed that she probably didn't remember me, so I said, "Hi, I'm Kelley-"
That was as far as I got before Doug's mom latched onto me and literally dragged me into her house. She pulled me over to her desk and pointed to a framed picture sitting above it:
It was a drawing of Doug that I had sent to his family over three years ago. "It brings sunshine into my life every day," his mom gushed. "When I first opened the envelope you sent and saw the drawing, I just burst into tears because it was Doug! I treasure it so much!" Throughout the course of the evening, she hugged me and thanked me over and over again for the portrait - which, again, I had sent her three years ago.
I was quite touched by the fact that Doug's mom remembered me and still loved and appreciated the portrait - even though, as I look at it now, it definitely has room to improve. This would be an interesting drawing to do again, and compare the before and after.