A hat is just a hat.

She was on a Field Trip with her High School class. She wore a cute little beret on her head. She thought it was quite cute. And it honored both her French and Irish background. The dark green of the beret set off the emerald color of her eyes, and the flame red of her hair too. She did wish she had fewer freckles, but if her older sister’s genes were also part of her genetic makeup…well most of the facial freckles will fade away. She hoped.

They crossed a rickety bridge over a narrow gulch. And that is when it happened. A gust of wind, a jerky twist to try…and miss…catching her beret as it flicked off her head and floated over the railing. She let out a short:

“Oh, crap.”

Everyone stopped to watch as the beret floated down to the stream below, like a soft frisbee that wasn’t in a hurry. Just before the beret hit the water, a young man (or maybe boy) seemed to appear out of thin air. He snatched the beret before it got anywhere near the water. Although he made quite the splash when he landed in the middle of the stream.

He looked up.

She looked down.

Something in her made her heart beat a bit faster…and launched a truly magnificent smile onto her lips.

Something in him made his heart beat a bit faster…and launched a truly magnificent smile onto his lips.

She waved and pointed to the beret.

He waved the beret and pointed to the small ledge on the other side of the gulch where the bridge ended.

The agreement was made. They would meet there in a few minutes. As soon as he climbed up the side of the cliff face. Everyone watched as he scrambled out of the water and then scrambled up the cliff (at what seemed to her whole group - as impossibly fast). Everyone just stared. Only Mrs. Parsons, the Parental Guide on this trip, spoke out loud.

“That boy is part mountain goat.”

And then he was there. A silly grin plastered on his face. His freckles were never going away. Nor was his red hair ever going to behave. He handed her the beret. she thanked him. He gave one of those long slow bows you see in old movies involving meeting the Queen or something. She couldn’t help it, she curtseyed back at him. Everyone clapped in delight for the simple show put on by the two red heads.

And then…he was gone. Just jumped right over the railing and scrambled back down the cliff side at what they all thought was “break neck speed”. He stopped by the small stream to look up at her. She stayed by the railing until he was safely perched on the side of the small stream. She waved a happy wave. He waved an even happier wave back. Then…he was gone.

She was silent the whole ride back on the bus. Everyone was talking about the strange red headed boy who could run up rocky cliffs as if it were just a grassy slope. Her best friend (Ellie) whispered over and broke her reverie:

“Kay…why didn’t you give him your phone number. I don’t think he saw any of us…just you.”

She didn’t have an answer. She just held her beret in her hands…twirling it around and around, looking for (and finding) the warm spots where he had touched it. It was enough. She smiled all the way home.

*****

College had been mostly a drag. Lots of hard work. Engineering Classes don’t leave much room for Socializing. But this semester she would be in Germany. Not only did she land a wonderful Semester Abroad (and it even paid her a small salary and an apartment to boot!) but she was assured that she could do whatever she wanted on her time off…especially the three day weekends that happened twice a month at the Firm that hired her.

And so it was she found herself standing on a bridge over the river Seine …in Paris. She was wearing a beret. She thought it made her look very French…or at least Celtic. It was, in fact, the same beret she had worn in High School on that Field trip. She didn’t know why she thought about that day…or that boy…standing on a bridge thousands of miles, and an entire ocean away from that long ago event…but she did.

Suddenly she was bumped by a rude guy on a bike. She bounced off the railing and her beret went sailing off into the wind. Once again it seem to float like a soft frisbee towards the water. A tour boat was just coming out from under the bridge. The beret headed - in no hurry - towards the open top deck. She saw a flash of red hair, and her beret was safe from a watery grave. It was gripped tightly in the hands of a rather tall red headed boy. She looked down. He looked up. Somewhere inside her…somewhere inside him… you know that part of the story already. Well…it was true then…and it is true now.

He waved to a small dock at the other side of the river…pointing to her, the beret and then the dock. She signaled back…”Right, I will meet you there.”

They stood to one side as a throng of tourists flowed off the boat to try and cram another site into an already busy schedule. Nobody paid any attention to the young couple off to the side experiencing a miracle. For what else could it be? She spoke first:

“It’s you! I always knew I would see you again some day.”

He glowed. It made his freckles stand out. She reached out to brush a mop of his hair off his forehead…it was a familiar gesture…done for the first time. She knew his hair was never going to behave…and she was okay with that. He seemed to lean into the gentle stroke of her hand against his forehead…and then…he spoke:

“Well, of course. I mean you keep throwing your hat at me every time we meet.”

It was the first of many laughs.

This time, she did give him her number. Although, to be honest, it wasn’t necessary. For he never left her side ever again. Her beret never flew off her head ever again. They took that as an omen. A good one.

When they got older…much older…they would take her beret out and reminisce. They could never decide if it was fate, destiny, or just happenstance that the little green beret would bring them together. The beret never offered any insights of its own. Just a tiny hint. For that beret never flew off her head again…ever. Not even when they were caught in a windstorm in Chicago near Christmas one year.

“Do you have that thing taped to your head with a bobby pin or something?”

She reached up and pulled it off her head. And showed him:

“Nope. Look! No strings, no wires, no bobby pins.”

“Hmm…”

Was all he said.

She put the beret back on her head. He pulled her close and kissed her.

She brushed a mop his hair in a valiant effort to have it stay there and behave…and failed.

The beret stayed put.