Once upon a time I filled-up my periwinkle Jansport book bag, the one with two pockets and a handful of patches, with bottled water, a good book, and my cell phone. Deciding that the best way to spend my afternoon on that particular day was a nice, long, walk, I took off for my father's house.
At the time, my house, the one I shared with my sister on the large hill, was 8.12 miles away from where our father lived. This walk cost me about three hours and a sweaty tank top, but also afforded me some good tête-à-tête.
Now, to fully understand the whim and necessity I felt to get to my father's house that day, you would first have to understand the path I took. Because my dad lives in the boon-docks. Because there is a highway separating us, as well as about three miles of solidarity. Long curves of back streets with little evidence of live, save the occasional car driving through.
When I set out I told no one, including my father. I did not know if he would be home when I arrived. It was a risk, a long walk there and possibly back, but I had it in me to go and so I did.
This is when I married Don....
I cannot believe I am about to type this, as I dare believe that everyone has already read and fallen madly in love with Blue Like Jazz, but if you haven't -shame!- you ought! It's pure articulated bliss on paper. And the author of Blue Like Jazz happens to be Donald Miller, that man I married on that eight point 12 mile hike on that random day just shy of a decade ago.
As I walked I talked to myself, (which is not uncommon since I tend to imagine myself in front of a camera -the camera of my life- and I am playing the role of reality star-self) it was Don I spoke with about life and relationships, and God, and love.
...and, oh yes!, he lets me call him Don.
Our natural conversation and his words like smooth molasses made my knees go weak and so I practically screamed yes! when he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
I believe in monogamy and so I confess that I have (desire, enjoy, need) only one husband, my Big Strong Man. I was neither married nor engaged at this time, so my daydream was entirely innocent.
Although I played out this rather entertaining senerio in my mind on my walk, I dare say it did not actually happen. As in, in reality there are no cameras following me and I have never (yet) met Don(ald) Miller. The only truth of that day was the walk. I actually did that. (And p.s. my dad was home and I scored a ride home later that evening!)
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More recently that this past decade, Big Strong Man and I have come to enjoy funnyman Jim Gaffigan and his comedic version of life on The Jim Gaffigan Show. Would you believe me if I told you I thought I would grow up to marry, have millions of children with, and share my first kiss with one of Jim's friends!?! Well I did! Enter Macauly Culkin!
As a child my uncle owned a video corner (where people went, once upon a time, to look at VHS tapes of the latest movies) and I can remember vividly the excitement that took over me when he gifted me with a life-sized cardboard cutout of Macauly with his red sweater and khaki pants ala Home Alone. The cardboard replica was eventually bent at the waist and I stood it right next to my bed, his face above my pillow. Good night, sweet dreams, I'll love you forever Macauly.
At age eight I predicted my license plate would someday read: MC+SL4E.
As I sit here typing, children sleeping, washer running, there is not one other man I would like to share this life with. Not like I do with my Big Strong Man. The actual man I married.
Donald, Macauly, you are both pretty special. Don, I am über excited to read Scary Close and get giddy every time I see you cameo on Jim's show, Macauly. It is funny to reflect, makes me sentimental and dreamy.
But, my Big Strong Man, again I say, there is not one other man I would have preferred.
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