Bright headlights illuminate an old grey country back road full of cracks and pot holes. It’s a cold midwinter day, but inside the truck, its toasty warm. He flips through the radio stations, finally settling for a country song I don’t recognize, but the singer’s deep soothing voice instantly has my full attention. The butterflies in my stomach drive me mad, but I take a leap anyways. Ever so slowly, I slid across the bench seat in the big red truck, closer to him. He glances at me sideways with those blue, blue eyes and smiles, dimples and all. Suddenly, the butterflies are gone and all I want is to be closer to him. He drapes his arm behind me as I snuggle up close, keeping his left hand firmly on the wheel, and begins to sing along softly with the song. I have his hoodie on, and it smells just like him, making me smile. I look up at him through my eye lashes, committing everything at that moment to memory. How relaxed and calm he was with his arm around me as he sang. How handsome he looked as the streetlights lit up his handsome features, taking my breath away. That longish blond hair, soft and perfect, and those blue eyes settled on that old country road. How at peace and absolutely amazing this tall, goofy, perfect boy made me feel. I had thought I had known love before, but what this boy makes me feel . . . it’s indescribable. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. Moments later, he kissed my forehead, and there in that big red truck, in the shadows of a late Friday night, as we drove down that old country road, with a smile on my lips, I thanked God for the angel that he sent to me.