Starry-Eyed Love (Spark House)

* * *

The first thing I do when I wake up the next morning is check my email. My stomach flutters when I notice I have two from Jackson.

London,

Good morning. I hope you’re doing well today.

Based on your website, Spark House has hotel accommodations for a maximum of fifty guests, but there’s a note about alternative options. I’d like to add that to the list of things to discuss next Friday.

Best,

Jackson

The next email reads:

My apologies for the back-to-back messages. I’ve created a list of topics for our meeting next week and am attaching a link to the file. Feel free to review it at your leisure and make any additions you believe are necessary.

Best,

Jackson

Suddenly my phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. I pull up the contact and find that I have two messages, one new one and one sent half an hour earlier. My phone is always on Do Not Disturb until five in the morning so my sleep isn’t interrupted.

Is hobbyhorsing really a thing?

Best,

Jackson

The most recent one, sent two minutes ago reads:

Never mind. I now have the answer to that question. I’ll have you know that I spent a good half an hour falling down a rabbit hole in which I watched an inordinate number of videos of GROWN MEN riding around on brooms with horse heads. The world is a strange place. You’ll find several questions regarding your hobbyhorse event on my list of things to discuss.

Best,

Jackson

I think it’s hilarious that he signs his messages like they’re emails. I wait until I’ve had my coffee before I compose a response.

Good morning. It seems you’ve been busy researching. I’ll review the list of questions and make sure to prepare accordingly. Hobbyhorse enthusiasts are particularly passionate about their sport. We’re hosting them again this year. I’m sure I can get you a guest invitation should you decide you’d like to attend. I should warn you that they’re highly competitive. Last year they created quite a ruckus.

When I get to Spark House, I have another new message.

A ruckus you say? I’m intrigued. I’ll add that to my list of questions, which is growing quickly.

Best,

Jackson

I can’t help myself, as soon as I tackle voicemails and make the necessary calls, I hop on email and open the Google Doc Jackson has set up. It’s ridiculous the way my stomach flip-flops over a freaking list of questions.

It’s a very organized list, broken down into sections with bulleted points and questions. There’s even a section not related to the charity event titled: NON-EVENT-RELATED QUESTIONS.

I laugh when I see questions pertaining to hobbyhorses and all the mascot conventions we’ve hosted. As I scroll, I notice a typo, so I fix it with track changes on and continue reading through the questions. I start color-coding each section, separating them into accommodations, food, and event themes, adjusting his lists and breaking them down.

A chat bubble pops up on the right side of the screen.

London?

My hand goes to my hair, and I look around, as if he’s going to magically appear. I roll my eyes at myself and click on the flashing bubble.

Hello. What can I do for you?

Just like on my phone, dots appear and inchworm until a new message appears:

What are you doing to my list?

I bite my lip, unable to read his tone.

Organizing it for you, unless you’d prefer I refrain.

He responds right away:

Do you find my organizational skills lacking?

I type back:

Not at all. But as the event manager, it’s often my job to create task lists and color-coding helps me keep track. If you’d prefer certain colors, please do let me know.

I scroll down to the bottom of the list and create a new category titled JACKSON HOLT. I color-code it green—to match his eyes—and start a new bulleted list.

Takes coffee with sugar and milk

Enjoys the outdoors (specifically camping in trailers)

Sensitive about lists

A new message appears:

I’m not sensitive about lists.

He starts typing in the document, adding NOT in bold green letters in front of “Sensitive about lists.”

I grin. Jackson Holt has a sense of humor.

I have a meeting in five minutes, but don’t think I won’t be back to check on this list later.

I wait until his user icon disappears from the screen before I use the strikeout function to cross out NOT and replace it with VERY.

Over the course of the week that follows, Jackson and I communicate almost daily through the Google Doc. Usually it’s first thing in the morning, before meetings take over for him and event preparation takes over for me. It’s always about Spark House. And an update on the things he’s added to the list. He doesn’t need to do this, as each time the document is updated, I receive an email alert, but I find I look forward to those daily messages.

They’ve become the first thing I check in the morning and the last thing I look at before bed.