Long ago I met the love of my life. Only I didn’t know he was. Our first formal meeting was purely chance. And while there was a definite spark, it was hardly the spark of love. More like a mildly volatile conversation tinged with sarcasm on his part and a little disdain on mine.
Little did we know that the stars had much more planned for us. Time went by and fate led us to meet again. This time things went a little smoother. We became friends and eventually were inseparable. I knew I’d marry him after our first real date. And we did…after a rather lengthy courtship.
One cold January afternoon he figured he’d kill a little time after getting his truck stuck in the mud. I was along for the ride. We were way back in the woods waiting for a tow out and he thought then was as good a time as any to propose marriage. He must have already thought it through because there was a ring in his pocket. So standing in the bed of a red and grey Ford we decided to make our life together. And soon after…we broke up. But wait, we were on again. Dating. No marriage talk. And then a couple years later, we did it. We set a date. One so close that we couldn’t possibly back out.
Lots of people thought it wouldn’t last. But no one verbally objected. Well, no one except for an ex of mine who thought he’d try to win me back a couple weeks shy of the wedding. The dude that dumped me years earlier for a girl that would travel on his Grateful Dead pilgrimage. Seriously. He gave up my super psychotic wonderfulness for another chic that was psychotic and psychedelic. No can do. I mean you’re a nice guy and really funny. But I’m taller than you when I wear heels. And I’m in love with someone else. So, no. I don’t think that will really work out. Thanks though.
Instead I made my life with a guy that loves old dogs and wool. My how that man loves wool. My guy that looks like the Brawny Man. Not the new metrosexual imposter either. The real Brawny Man with sandy hair, mustache and flannel shirt. My man that is happiest when given a task that requires a chainsaw, fire, and four-wheel drive.
We married St. Valentines weekend of 1997. (Not because we are romantic dweebs. It was the only available weekend before his birthday. Guys that propose marriage in mudholes don’t purposely marry on V-day.) The angels sang and the world rejoiced. My mama breathed a long sigh of relief.
Thirteen years and a passel of children later, we’re as happy as the day we wed. Insanely happy and weird. We love each other more than the world over and that is enough. We don’t do anniversary cards or token gifts like most couples. I despise store-bought cards and ask that he not spend money on such. I’d rather splurge on Starbucks than spend $4 on a sappy, flowery card printed with someone else’s words. I’d prefer a seed packet to a dozen roses. We’re plain and simple. Not like the Amish. I like fancy buttons and zippers too much. And sometimes I wear mascara. But in general I don’t desire material things. Which is good for him. Really takes the pressure off.
A few years back – on the weekend of our 10th anniversary – we were in a store picking up some aromatherapy oils and herbs. And we saw it. Something we were both drawn to even though it didn’t fit our lifestyle or budget. A glorious piece of silver dripping with amethyst and turquoise. He asked that I try it on. So I did. And I inquired of the price. Just about the time I latched the clasp, the sales girl blurted out a number that made me cringe and want to remove it immediately. I didn’t even want to gaze at its loveliness in the mirror. And out of the blue he quietly said “we’ll take it.” The girl laughed because she thought it was a joke. We’re that plain. And it was that expensive. But when she saw me blush and tear up she jumped to it and summoned the proprietor. See this piece is so unbelievably fabulous the lady never really intended to sell it. But she did because she likes us.
Some would say it belongs with someone who will wear it fancy places. But it doesn’t. It belongs to me. And I believe the artisan that crafted it made it just for me. Just like my man. The hand of the Divine made him just for me. Me and no other.
Better or worse.
Richer or poorer.
Sickness and health.
I meant every word.
I love you for you.
You and no other.
Forever.
Pie Pans & Pigtails 