anniversary

One year

JN-1.jpg

This is an excerpt from a story I have been writing about this man since he stumbled back into my life exactly a year ago. I feel so very lucky to have found love again in this life. I feel even luckier that it’s with him.



He showed up on a Wednesday on my front porch 20 years after we first met in a ceramics class he taught at the local museum. He, my handsome instructor, and me, his nervous student. The timing wasn’t right back then. But the (now) undisputed attraction and chemistry was there. It was magnetic. But I had someone I was seeing at the time. He met someone shortly after and our paths diverged for 20 years. Marriage. Kids…Life.

Last year, through the magic of Facebook, I reached out and sent a message to check in. “Thinking of you…How are you?” He responded by setting a date.

On the day he came to visit, he looked exactly the same as I remembered - handsome, chiseled, dimpled, with a head full of hair. His muscular arms wrapped around me when we nervously hugged in the threshold of my doorway. His body felt warm and good. He smelled delicious - simultaneously clean and masculine. I lost my breath in that moment, nervous from the anticipation of the day.

He came in that morning and we made nervous small talk. We got something to drink and sat cordially at the dining room table stumbling through conversation.

And then, like magic, we leaned into our first date. The words came out like a waltz. Stories spilled out of us that day, knitting together the holes in the fabric we left behind. Stories of his marriage breaking up. Stories of my broken relationships. Stories of parents and grandparents now gone. Stories of children and love and heartbreak… all stitched awkwardly together by the leftover shards of ribbon and yarn and remnants of who we once were and who we are now.

We went to the beach that afternoon, swimsuits and boogie board in tow. We flirted and floated our way through that day. We walked the beach and found sharks teeth and seashells. We passed gentle glances and lost ourselves in each other. He touched my arm. I felt dizzy. We drank beer on the beach like a couple of rebels. We never ever ran out of words. We melted into that long day like ice cream in July - a delicious mess.

We danced in the risk of each other, uncovering the hurt and pain and fear and shame that had been buried deep within us. Every shared breath between us felt like clean, clear water washing away the layers of thick, heavy, putrid, pluff mud that my soul had been buried under for years. I felt weightless around him - like floating in the salty sea, waves of joy tumbling and tossing me aimlessly around. I was uninhibited…overjoyed…full.

I waited a lifetime to find him and for him to find me, and yet I feel like we have known each other all along. Each story he tells me, I feel deeply connected to…almost like I am there – present in his memories, a part of his past. Each moment between us feels as new and familiar as anything I have felt in my life. It is comforting and comfortable to know someone like this. It’s incredible to trust someone so quickly. But the best gift is when they feel the same way, too, and you know it without it being spoken.


After a year, I can say this - don’t discount all your experiences with love because it comes in different forms at different times of life. All of it is important. Be patient and kind with your precious heart. And remember to look for someone who does the same for you.

I love you, JN. You make me happier than bacon and sausage.

Happy 10 Years.

home

Today has been 10 years that I have been in this home. Ten whole years. It's the longest I have lived in one home since I have been on my own.

When I originally stumbled across this place 10 years ago, I fell in love. But like many of the homes at the bubble of the housing boom in America, it had already had an offer on it. I came into the house feeling completely defeated and worn out. Because this place FELT like home to me. The huge, grassy yard. The quaint, white picket fences. The sweet, cottage feel. It suited everything about me at that time. Nothing needed any real work. A few light fixtures and perhaps a new coat of paint. That was all I really wanted. And it was right here, waiting for me.

Obviously, it all worked out in my favor. The other offer fell through. I eventually came up with a figure they could live with and we were finally on our way to a settled life rooted down in a great city.

I haven't changed much about these 2100 square feet all in the 10 years I have lived here. My furniture still sits in virtually the same spots as when I moved here 10 years ago. My kitchen is still painted the same sage color with the same Lowe's cabinets as the day I signed the paperwork declaring that this place was mine. But even though this place and it's contents haven't changed much, there has been a lot of changes around me. My mother, who we swiftly pulled up the 2 steps into my home in her cumbersome wheelchair, is now gone. So is my father, who helped me hang the dining room light fixture and slept in my guest room for a few months after my mother passed away. My sister – who visited me for a few weeks after my father passed away - just died last year. I have a few grey hairs and some more pounds to speak of. And my sweet little boy has grown from a little toddler to a full blown teenager - sass and all.

I suppose I haven't changed much about my home for this very reason. So much else has changed...that the sweet, calming, grounding sense I get from my home is perfect for me. I love coming home to the predictability of my outdated kitchen, my comfortable furniture and my familiarly hued walls.

I feel the need to thank my humble home for it's support and love over the years. It has comforted me and calmed me after long days and sad events. It's has supported me and protected me from harsh weather and storms. It has cradled me to sleep and held me through some tough economic times as a self-employed single mom who is just trying to make her way in this world.

I often have said "I just want to keep us in our home." Instead, what I realize is this home has been keeping me all these years.

Happy 10 years, Little Home. I can't wait to see what the next 10 bring us.