Kim 2008, by John Ostrander
This week’s marks eleven years since the passing of my late wife, Kimberly Yale. The best way to remember people, I’ve found, is through stories – stories you know or stories you’ve heard. Story is what I do. So here are some of the stories by which I remember Kim.Kim and I had known each other quite a while before we started dating or became a couple. In point of fact, before Kim and I started dating, I had given up on the ritual. It simply had gotten too painful. I was well into my thirties at that point and none of my relationships had lasted more than six months. The common variable in that equation seemed to be me so I just assumed I was never going to find someone. I had not gone on a date for maybe eighteen months prior to Kim’s and my starting up.
In fact, Kim had earlier been one of those who had shot down whatever overture I was making. I had gotten back from a business trip to England and picked up a Doctor Who tchotke or two that I thought she would like. I called her up, said I was coming over to her apartment, and headed over in vague hopes of maybe possibly something might happen. Kim and I were more acquaintances than anything else at this point.
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