Or building. Maybe just on the other side of the door. Who knows. And that's what makes youth so fun. Because it's all still possible. Because I can resist her in nothing, this post is a small moment taken from my personnal fairy tale. And what a tale it has been...so far.
You should know, I am not an avid journaler. I joke that Bryan and I are still dating in my journal. Certainly I have the tax returns and children to prove otherwise, but according to that book on the shelf, we just met.
Before I fell in love, I dreamed about love. I petitioned for it, hoped for it and got lost in the notion that someday, I would be in love. And loved in return.
One of my few journal entries, September 17, 1993, is a detailed account of all my wishes.
And it is nausiatingly sweet and hopeful.
Even better than that is Sept. 15, 1993 where I list, by name, every boy I ever kissed. All 8 of them.
I even rate them. There's a couple of "Oh, gross, gross" and two "good"s.
Heaven help me. I was only 18 so I'm trying to cut myself some slack.
But, back to the 17th.
"I can't wait 'til I'm a mom and I can cook dinner for my husband and our children. I want us to all sit at the table and talk about our day."
"I can't wait to fingerpaint and teach them how to write in cursive. I can't wait to go to the grocery store and fill up two shopping carts. I can't wait to put almost 20 grocery bags in the back of my station wagon." (Seriously, who is excited about a station wagon?)
I go on and on. And on. I describe what I think he'll be like and "wouldn't it be great if he loved me right away and I didn't realize it but that because he's so awesome I would be crazy about him and still have no clue he likes me back."
I needed a nap after just listening to myself.
I sign off a different journal entry with "I have the song from 'Sleeping Beauty' in my head. 'I know you I've walked with you once upon a dream. I know you the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...."
I have a few minor entries after that entry.
In a matter of weeks I met Bryan and quite frankly, fell so hard and so fast, I didn't have time to document my descent.
And then one day, 3 weeks after we met, he asked me to marry him. We had real, honest conversation about it. We kissed and laughed and talked. And kissed and laughed and talked. And then I locked myself in my room without music or TV or phone or food or water. And I thought.
All day long.
I studied all I knew about him. I studied all I knew about me.
And I thought back to out first date. I recalled how surprised I was that he was so into classical music. And that he ordered duck at dinner. And he was fluent in French. And had lived in Bangkok and Singpore.And France and Switzerland.
All I had to offer was a simple upbringing in Hollister.
How could this work?
I lay on my bed going thru our dates. It was easy. We had only been on like, 10. With perfect recall, I remembered stepping off of the curb in San Fransisco and how he pulled be back quickly when a car sped by. I remembered how he was humming a classical tune from Tchichovsky. The music used in Disney's "Sleeping Beauty."
I turned to my journal. I started at page one. I read all my silly entries.
I read, like I would be tested later, the entry about all of my hopes and dreams regarding love.
And there it was. A reference to "Sleeping Beauty."
Of course, you know how this ends.
I said yes.We said I do.
On September 17, 1994.
Isn't that wild?
CORRECTION:
He never lived in Bangkok. He was just visiting Malaysia.
This I did not know.
But now I do.
And apparently my post makes it sound like he asked me to marry him and then I closed the door on him and immediately turned the lock.
That is an awesome visual.
But there was a couple of days between the talking and the locking.
No comments:
Post a Comment