Days Into Years

As they do, the days were turning in to weeks, were turning into months, were headed to years. Things were beginning to calm and my heart and inner deepest spots were trying to heal. I suppose that will always be a part of the process. I was experiencing new things and living a new life, though still dancing around peoples feelings, and offering many apologies and requests for forgiveness. Falling more deeply in love, it had all taken a far different turn than I had ever imagined. I had been prepared to be free as a bird, and the answer to anything anyone asked was going to be “yes.” But it became evident to me that the only “yeses” I’d be giving were to The Lawyer.

That’s my nickname for him. Started out a little snarky, as you could imagine, but turned into the most loving moniker. Now most of my friends call him that as well.  There have even been a few that have happened upon him in the grocery and walked right up to him and said, “You’re The Lawyer, aren’t you?” Apparently my work here is done.

We traveled, had family time, met one another’s friends and family, and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.  We shared our present and our past, our hurts, frustrations and desires, and held nothing back.  It’s quite the liberating feeling letting it all out into a place that’s safe and free.  And, let’s just be honest, free has a dual meaning here.  My counselor had gotten far too much of my money that year.

We spent as much time together as we possibly could, while still allowing me to chart the new course I needed as much as wanted.  Magical, painful, exhilarating, and exhausting – all in the best ways.  The days became weeks, became months.

One of the many trips upon which we embarked was to see The Lawyer’s father.  Around Thanksgiving, I believe.  He lived on a mountain in Kentucky, in a house hanging off the side of the planet, with some of the most amazing views I’ve ever seen.  It was a sweet visit, partly full of sugar and laughs, partly drizzled in bittersweet chocolate.  I do realize I got to meet and enjoy the subdued father, the tired old gentle father, the father who liked me as much as I liked him.  I’m forever grateful for that visit, as he passed just a few weeks later.  I like to soak in the sweet parts of that visit, because family runs deep, and I’ll be forever happy to know that he liked his son being with me, and told folks as much.

But it wasn’t long after that The Lawyer had a fairly substantial medical event which drastically changed our plans.   Two days after Thanksgiving he ended up in the hospital, where he stayed for quite a few days, heading into my 50th birthday extravaganza week.   We had plans to be in NYC for my 50th, a long awaited trip.  The Lawyer was well enough for me to leave him in the capable hands of the nurses, his daughters, and my parents, and he sent my sister, my son, and me on our way up the Eastern Seaboard.  We texted and spoke each step of the way and he assured me he was fine.  Even sent a photo of his daughter and himself in front of the Christmas tree, since he’d finally been released from the hospital. But, that release came with stipulations, and a PIC line.  He had a deep abdominal infection that needed the big guns to fight it.  He was to take it easy and change the IV bag twice a day, and certainly not travel.  Wait.  What?  I think he missed that piece of the instructions.  You see, he loaded up days’ worth of IV, his daughter, and a small suitcase, and headed to me.  I had a sneaking suspicion he was going to pull something like that, my sister was blissfully ignorant to his ways.  (even my parents were in on it, MUCH to my surprise)  She sent him a text on my birthday, just to make sure, she said, that he wasn’t coming.  His reply was brilliant, and not lost on me.  “If I left Tallahassee right now I couldn’t be there in time for her birthday dinner.”  She immediately was convinced he wasn’t coming.  I, on the other hand, knew he’d be there.  I knew his brand of English, as I use it often myself.  Fact was, when he sent her that text he was already in a NYC cab on his way to the hotel.  I just kept my mouth shut.  One of our all-time favorite photos is of my sister when she saw him sitting at the table when we arrived for my birthday dinner.  I playfully scolded him, but was overwhelmed and amazed that someone would go to that much trouble to be with me.  It was a deeply enlightening moment.  The effort won me over on the spot.

That trip was a trip.  We all learned how to change an IV bag, but it didn’t slow anyone down.  Well, except for The Lawyer.  He stayed in bed most of the time, like the somewhat-good patient that he generally is.  We made it home with little hullabaloo, unless you count the airport almost-strip-search he got because of all the liquid he was toting.  Still giggle about that one.  But, once again, we weren’t deterred, and after the holidays we headed out again.  This time, Mount Rushmore.  On my short list – take a selfie with the Presidents, hop a flight home.  Simple.  Except that I’m with The Lawyer, so of course it was a little more than that.  In the biggest way possible.

The air was cold, the snow and ice thick on the ground, the sun bright and crisp.  Especially when it reflected off that gorgeous diamond he put on my finger when he proposed marriage.  It was more surprise than I have ever experienced.  I truly had no idea, inkling, inclination, thought, that this was coming.  It was the ultimate definition of surprise.  I accepted his proposal without hesitation; it was one of the most delightful, happiest, best-day-ever, days of my life.  I love this man, and now I know he loves me, though there really was no doubt before.  But just for clarification, just how much does he love me?  He called my parents.

We came home and began to make some plans, though not in a great rush.  Work, events and such, and really just life in general, kept us busy; there was no need to hurry.  Getting married at a “more mature” age is certainly different than doing it when you’re young.  Lots of things are different, perspectives are different, expectations, and really the lack thereof.  Let’s just have a good time.

So, we did.

A couple weeks later we honeymooned in Paris, which I do believe, is the most magical city.  Though perhaps so magical because I was there with The Lawyer.  He spoils me completely rotten.  And it hasn’t stopped.  Every day he makes an effort to show me his love.  Little things, big things, things I’d forgotten, he efforts at them all, and does so, so beautifully.

So I think I’ll stop here with the minutia of the time table of the last few years, and revert back to just writing about whatever comes my way.  Most days there’s plenty, I just need to find the discipline to get to the keyboard.  Maybe this fabulous mini-pool (bathtub) candlelit set-up he designed for me will be just the inspiration I need.