Steve took me in when I needed a place to stay. I had finally decided to leave Mill Valley, my home of seven years, and make the move to "the city". I had been couch-surfing, house-sitting, and vagabonding for about two months when I got a note from Steve saying I could stay with him for a couple days if I needed another place to crash. I didn't know him very well, but he was good friends with my good friends, so I figured he was an ok guy. That, and I believe he had just received the honor of being "man of the year" in a certain fundraising circle for all of the effort he put into raising money for MS. I tucked my things in his back room and promised I'd only be there a short while.
A month later, we were like old friends, cooking dinner together, sharing good wine, telling each other about our days when we were home from work... It was feeling like home. One day I woke up to find a cup of coffee in the fridge from the local cafe down the street, and my name was on the lid. I was confused, did I go there and forget? Did I sleepwalk? Steve knew I liked lattes, and got me one before he left for work. I overslept, so I missed it, but I knew then that we had indeed become roommates. It was nice. A week later, I found the place that I would become my new home, just five blocks away. We still get together over good wine and delicious food and reminisce about that month that bonded us in each other's lives. I miss his cooking and his bright smile, but most of all, I miss his heated toilet seat.