|Monday, Nov. 15, 2004 || Waiting and all|
I started this diary 3 years ago today.
That is hard to believe. Then I thought it was just some silly little place to play around with html and talk about some of the funny things in my life.
Over time it became my therapist. A place of budding friendships. A source of laughter and encouragement and growth. A way to measure milestones, relationally and spiritually.
Some folks still look at me sideways and cross-eyed when I say that I have an online journal. “You mean other people read it?”
And you know, I can’t imagine having it any other way.
This date has further significance in that it was on this day 17 years ago that I told Rob, “I’ll wait.”
Just 9 days prior, we had gone out on our first date. Dinner in B0wie. Icecream at B@skin Robbins. A cold walk along the Inner H@rbor where we first held hands. Three kisses (he alleges that two were stolen!) under a porch light.
He left the next day to spend a week with family and friends in Cali before heading to the Gre@t Lakes for boot camp. But the evening before he officially kissed 6 years of his life away to serve this country, he inundated me with all the what-ifs, the I-will-be-gone-for-a-long-time attempts to scare me off.
And on November 15, 1987, I answered, “I’ll wait.”
What did I know, a 17-year-old high schooler with romantic ideas about a long-distance sailor boyfriend? I barely knew this tall, lanky, pensive young man. And yet I heard myself say:
A winter of little more than letters and stolen phone calls. Spring came and with it liberty weekends of minimal sleep, his Sunday drive back to CT coming far too soon.
A birthday. A ring. Graduation. Summer came and went, and I found myself flying to California where we decided, “why wait?” Saying “I do,” before a fireplace and a handful of friends and family. A move. Settling in; newlyweds! The day coming far to soon when tears stained dress blues, watching him leave for months a time. Not once, not twice, but four times.
Waiting. To get out of the military. To finish his degree. To see a tiny seed grow into a flourishing church. To know what to do and where to go next.
It seems to be a theme. One I am still trying to come to grips with. I want to say it's been easy.
Truthfully? Not so much. I would be remiss to say that I’ve never thought, “What about me?” or “Is it my turn now?” or "Why us?"
And each time I see him walk through those airport doors, I hear it again. Barely audible, an echo. And I remember.
Some things never change.
What did I know, that snowy November evening some 17 years ago? Did I really understand what those two little words meant?
I’d like to say, yes, of course I did! Truth be told, I am not so sure.
But there is one thing I do know.
Seventeen years and two tiny words ago, a naïve 17-year-old gave her heart away.
And given the chance, I’d do it all over again.
Waiting and all.
Just a reminder - Friday, Aug. 10, 2007
Rockin' Girl Blogger - Wednesday, Jul. 18, 2007
A good end - Friday, Jun. 01, 2007
Moving on? Yes and no. - Monday, May. 07, 2007