Michael Louis Serafin-Wells



December 1

On this day, ten years ago, Summer and Michael first met. Michael wrote this to her on his Summerlove blog this morning, in honor, memory, tribute and prayer:


Little sweetheart, on this day, exactly ten years ago, my life was changed utterly.

On this day ten years ago, I woke up early in the morning, before dawn, took the “E” train to JFK and flew across the country, arriving before lunch, to San Francisco to do a reading that afternoon at The Magic.


When folks from the theater, including our friend AD, Chris Smith, picked me up, they were enthusing rapturously about a young genius little whirlwind that had blown them away at the auditions and callbacks and who they’d hired to head the cast. When I sat down at the big table they’d set up on the stage of The Shepherd, the writer, company and cast gathered around, I came to understand they weren’t exaggerating.

During the act break, I found myself alone. Everyone had stepped into the outer hall of the lobby or all the way outdoors (The Magic is nestled into the Marina and it was a beautiful California day, sweeping vistas of both bridges in view). I was getting myself another cup of coffee when the aforementioned little genius whirlwind - you - made her way over to talk to me.

I wish like hell I could remember verbatim every word you said in those first moments but I think even at the time I might not have taken it in fully because I was too busy being taken in fully by you. At first sight, you were quite a first sight. Like something out of a Botticelli or maybe any one of those amazing heroines that Waterhouse painted. A red-headed angel with ivory skin so fair its purity was blinding. A classical beauty trying vainly to dress down and fit into these screwball times. Ariel in black yoga pants and a band t-shirt.

Aside from being completely knocked out by your breathtaking talent, I wondered how they were going to work out you being in rehearsals everyday. Had your high school principal signed on? It wasn’t until you shuffled over to talk to me (all things had to go like this - you always making the first move, the first kiss, wrestling me to the ground, because you always knew sooner, knew better, knew so much faster and more than I), it wasn’t until then that I knew you already had a diploma, three of them, including a Master’s Degree.

If I track it, I think that is what we talked about - London, New York - places we’d both called home. The coincidence of locations in common without knowing one another. Not then. Not yet. That was for now. That was for this moment - ten years ago on this very day - that you found me.

Later, we often called March 19th our anniversary because it was the moment we both knew unquestionably it was ours and that we were each others. But even before that night and everything leading up to it, my life, my heart, was utterly changed, little sweetheart, looking into your big beautiful blue eyes. Before I ever loved you romantically and forever (and like everything you knew better, sooner, faster than I could know myself) I loved and adored and wanted to protect and be near you. My heart recognized you right away and you came over and found me.

Ten years ago on this day, exactly, my life was changed utterly. Ten years ago today, little sweetheart, I met you. You found me. Find me again, won’t you, my darling girl? And take me where you are. Where I belong. Home.

With all my love forever.