Tuesday, November 3, 2009

A Day to Remember


I’m not very sentimental. I don’t like books and movies that are oooey-goooey. I don’t cry when children start kindergarten, walk to the pool all by themselves for the first time, get their drivers license, or take their last final. I will admit to shedding more than a few tears when my daughter got her Associates Degree last spring, and no one was more surprised than I was that those floodgates opened!

Anyway, sentimental or not…I am a keeper of dates. I couldn’t tell you when my utility bill is due without looking, and I imagine it is due the same day each month. But anniversaries and birthdays and the like…my brain recalls that date. Who can say how and why ANY brain works, much less one such as mine.

Today, however, is an exception for me in that it is a date about which I am sentimental. I miscarried a baby 25 years ago today. I have peace about that loss and have had for a long, long time. But on November 3 of each year, I think of the dark day in 1984 when I suffered that loss. I occasionally wonder where that child would be and how different would my life be if that angel had blessed my life by being born and living. That child is a treasure who lives deep in my heart and is my very own.

The other occasion for sentiment is a kiss. Not a simple kiss. This kiss was a kiss of monumental proportions. It was 13 years ago on Sunday, November 3 that my Rocket Man rocked my world with perhaps the sweetest kiss ever given or received! Do you know that in 13 years there are: 156 months, 676 months, 4748 days, 113,568 hours, 6,814,080 minutes and (can you believe I’m doing this?) 408,844,800 seconds? (Live with a Rocket Engineer long enough and you might begin to do crazy things like this, too!)

THAT kiss, the one that changed my life forever, was full of promise and anticipation and hope and grief and healing and joy and passion and contentment. Did I mention passion? I’ll have to say…I thought he would NEVER actually kiss me. We had been ‘keeping company’ for some time and things had picked up in intensity over Halloween. Emails were flying between us, phone calls, sitting on couches with our children around us. That very evening, he had driven in from out of town and come to the church to get his youngest daughter who happened to be in my children’s choir. I wasn’t aware that he was in the building and was watching the bedlam of children going to their next activities. He came up behind me and whispered in my ear, “Do you want to go to Wal Mart with me?”

My knees turned into overcooked elbow macaroni. My heart started pounding. I got so short of breath that I had to take a whiff of my asthma inhaler. At that moment, I would have gone to Timbuktu with him, and not stopped to get my toothbrush!

We took his daughter and went to WalMart. (I’m telling ya, I was a cheap and easy date!) We got something to fix for dinner and went back to his house. I could see something in his eyes that fascinated me. I began to notice that he has a crooked tooth and found that wildly exciting. I was a goner.

We ate dinner and he put his children to bed while I sat on the couch nearly swooning. He sat close to me…he took my hand. He leaned in and whispered, “I want you to promise me something.” Yeah, right! Anything. Just kiss me before I die! “Promise me you won’t ever be crazy.” Say what? “Yes, I promise. I won’t ever be crazy.” “Promise me that you won’t ever call me cheap.” You got it! I’m dying here. I promise, I promise, I PROMISE! “Do you want me to promise anything?” Sure! Promise that you are going to either kiss me or call 911 because my heart has exploded! “Yes, Ed. Please promise me that you won’t have a mid-life crisis or ever say ‘Shame on you’ to me.” He thought about it and nodded solemnly. Good gracious….I was dying. DYING!

Then he did it. First kisses are often sweet. At least, I think so. I haven’t had all that many, but I’m not so old that I don’t recall the thrill of my very first kiss. But this kiss…man, oh! man! So tender and careful. It was as if he had my broken heart in his hands and that with this kiss he could heal it. You know what? That kiss couldn’t have completely healed all the hurt my heart had endured. But the man giving the kiss most certainly has.

Yes, I’m sentimental about November 3. One of the hardest days I’ve ever endured and one of the sweetest I’ve enjoyed. Oh, if that Rocket Man were at home tonight, the kiss I would give him!! *sigh* It will just have to wait until he comes home!

2 comments:

Teri Lynne said...

Okay, I guess I'm more sentimental than I like to admit because that absolutely makes me tear up! I didn't know about your miscarriage. I'm so sorry. But what you wrote about THAT kiss ... beautiful.

Mollianne said...

It's not something I talk about often. In my heart, I have a son who belongs only to me and he exists in my mind. Of course, he would me brilliant, atheletic, would have accepted Ed as his stepfather and been very close to him.... In reality, she could have been a holy terror.

I gave that child to God as soon as I was aware of him. As heartbroken as I was, I rejoice that someday, I will know that child of my heart.

THAT kiss... Still makes my heart skip a beat!