I Didn't Always Know

My soul must have

People sometimes ask about our origin story, curious about how we first met. This cold and snowy January of my freshman year of college in 1980, our destiny-infused meeting was accidentally on purpose at a keg party in which we found ourselves, each bored and not expecting much. I was with my roommate and bestie, Melody, and he was with his good friend Malcolm. 

This friend happened to live on the floor above us in our dorm and we needed a ride back because our ride ditched us. It was a long walk, otherwise. So we introduced ourselves.

By this time in my 18 years I hadn’t had a serious relationship yet and I was certain men were mostly the disloyal type. When he left my dorm, after a little making out and a few more drinks, his last words were “I’ll call you.”

I probably rolled my eyes, as in “yeah, right”. I did not believe him then, but the next week he called me. Asked me to go, you guessed it, on a date! 

We never stopped saying yes to each other every single day since that night. He was my first and last and current true love.

I remember my best friend basically rolling her eyes at me, three months in, saying I’d be marrying that guy. I guess she didn’t really believe in men much either, or maybe since he was my first relationship she figured it was bound to fail or maybe she just didn’t know, like me.

She stood with me on our wedding day on May 1, 1982, 43 years ago this May, wearing her lavender maid-of-honor dress and me with my JC Penney size 18 (gasp) wedding gown, my bouquet of lilacs and lily of the valley – silk because I was overly optimistic about how early Spring blossoms would arrive that year. 

We were all babies making giant life decisions that easily could have hurt us and we all rolled the dice anyway.

What I really want to say here is that I had no true idea of what was to come. Somehow, here we are. There were times I was ghastly. Arrogant. An ego sundae with a dollop of whipped cream on top and of course the cherry, ever the cherry.

I want you to know that I didn’t know, and I doubted sometimes what forever could actually mean. Still, we stuck our landing, together.

And here we are

.

Here is what I know now, in poetic prose.

I Didn’t Always Know

I didn’t always know we’d be in our 60s together, still holding hands like young lovers even though public displays of affection probably still embarrass you. 

I didn’t always know the way we would listen to one another, when years ago I probably didn’t expect to learn much from you at all. I mistook myself for your teacher.

I didn’t always know the peace we would now treasure in one another’s company. The comfort in silence. The convivial conversation when engaged.

I didn’t always know how much I would value the security of knowing you would walk through flames for me, with me.

I didn’t always know how thoroughly you would love and care for me, and how I’d do the same for you.

I didn’t always know you’d make me belly laugh over the town of Uranus, advertising the fudge factory on a billboard, after saying if you were in charge of the town name you’d change it.

I didn’t always know how held I would feel during daunting health challenges I’d have, or life bumps, or traffic irritations or near death experiences. Being held, without question.

I didn’t always expect the way you refused to let negativity enter the conversation when you had not one, but two cancer diagnoses. I thought I was the positive one.

I didn’t always understand how much you knew about life and its meaning. About faith. Loss. Fear. Disappointment. I just didn’t know.

I didn’t always know you could be my hero in every story, that you could fix the car even though it’s not your thing or you could help someone in their time of need without pausing. 

I didn’t always recognize the way you are steadfast and you always do the right thing. Every time, even when it’s hard. Like returning stray carts to their corral in a blizzard, and picking up litter on our hiking trail even when you need to crawl through a thicket of sharp thorns. 

I didn’t always know you’d be such a force as a dad with our adult children when they struggle, or such a fun papa for our grands. I didn’t expect them to idolize you more than me, but they do.

I didn’t always know the ease with which you adapt, having believed you would resist change. I totally made that up.

I didn’t expect to look forward to tomorrow, and the next day, as long as I get to live it breathing the same air as you. I didn’t expect to look forward to forever with you next to me.

I didn’t expect, after so, so many years, to relish dressing up for you, to seek your praise.

I didn’t expect to underestimate you, which I probably still do, but less so than ever before.

I didn’t expect to still love you with every cell in my body, as if we were carved from the same piece of wood, a textured sculpture of devotion and care.

I didn’t always know you were the love of my whole life, but I do know this, and I’m grateful.