When the Stars Align – A love story!

Talking about soulmates.

A while back, there was a writing prompt about what words we hate.

For me, the word is astrology.

When I tell people I took my degree in astronomy, the first thing they ask is if I can do horoscopes for them. They then get treated to a five-minute rant of how I study what’s out there and try to figure the Universe out vs a pseudo-science that lies about the future, And if they don’t know the difference, then I’ll cast a fortune that will tell them their probable spiritual destination and how to…

Sorry. I’m ranting.

But there is one term I like from that fake science, and that’s the stars align. I know it’s supposed to mean a rare and fortuitous event.

And that’s how it was when I met my wife, Julie.

The first time I ever spoke with her, I was in Iraq. The Gulf War was over. We’d be leaving in a matter of weeks.

My first marriage had fallen apart well before I ever left for that war. The war had just spurred me to get my life back together, and while I was off fighting Sadly Insane and his forces of Darkness, I found a lawyer who could handle my own personal war.

Now that things were winding down, a lot of the comforts they showed us having in the movies, like a phone tent, had finally caught up to us. We, meaning the MPs, had drawn the task of guarding it.

I did some time calculations and asked for the duty so I could make the call to my lawyer. When I explained the why, my LT was happy to let me.

It was raining like crazy the night I made the call. The tent itself was wet, sagging, and in places, the tent stakes had pulled out of the ground. We were guarding a tent that had half fallen down. Wrose, they’d pitched it on an old road, so a river ran through it.

I’m standing in about two inches of water, and I placed my call. A moment later, I heard a woman’s voice identify the law offices.

“Hi,” I said, putting on my best FM radio voice. “This is Sgt. Richad Muniz calling from Iraq.”

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was warm and friendly.

And something in me responded to it. I’d never heard the voice before, but it was one I seemed to know. It was a hint carried on the winds of the universe.

 I know, here I am, a man of science prattling on like one of those people who believe in crystals and that the heavens influence us.

When I think of it, I’m on the verge of becoming my own worst enemy.

I didn’t understand what had just happened.

“We’ve been expecting your phone call,” she said. “Let me hand you over to Bill.”

I spoke to my lawyer, got things going, and then he said, “Let me hand you back to Julie.”

The woman with the voice came back. It was a very professional chat, but when I hung up, something in me said, “You need to pay attention here. Something incredible and important just happened.”

Two months later, I met her in the flesh.

I walked into the office, and sitting at the front desk, is this incredibly beautiful woman. We’re talking about Miss America, movie-star material here.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Richard Muniz.”

She stood and offered her hand. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Julie.”

I took her hand and said, “Ah. At last. The face behind the voice.” Then I kissed her hand.

Totally suave.

James Bond Cool.

And about as sappy as you can get.

And no, I hadn’t planned it.

It just seemed to be the right thing to do.

Two years later, we were married.

So you don’t have to go looking. More often than not, your soulmate just shows up.

Of course, the stars have to align.