Perhaps, by writing about some of those moments when "time stood still" for Gwen and me it will help to ease the way November 12 will be experienced.
Ours wasn't one of those fabled "love at first sight" encounters. We liked each other, and dated after our initial meeting, but continued dating others. Surprisingly, I wasn't crushed when Gwen told me that she had dated the same guy all during her break break at Christmas but saw it as a challenge to become someone she would see exclusively. I too had dated other women during that time, but was still feeling fragile as the result of a previous love affair that had gone badly. Over time, we became fascinated with each other. I knew that I was hooked when I began to "stalk" her. Everyone knows how that goes; I knew what her schedule of classes was, and would conveniently arrange to be at the foot of the long stairway in Pierce Hall when she came down from her history class. "I didn't know you had a class this hour." "Could I help you carry your books?" "What are your plans for the weekend?"
Later in the spring we were what a that time was called "going steady." I asked Gwen to attend the dinner dance at my fraternity, and then heard that a guy from another fraternity was going to ask her to go to his. It was quite unlike me, but I immediately sought out that guy and let him know in no uncertain terms that as far as I was concerned Gwen was off limits to him. I told Gwen about it the night we fell in love. She said that she didn't like the guy and wouldn't have accepted his invitation, but I could see in her eyes that she liked what I had done.
One night Gwen and I were "studying" in the library. Actually, she was teaching me how to write shorthand, I would have to pass the class if I wanted to become a business teacher. She said that she couldn't concentrate because I gave her too much to think about herself. She wrote me a note in shorthand that I still have. In it she mentions "what happened" last weekend, and said the she wasn't ready to talk about it; she was confused about it. What had happened was a moment when we became simply who we were; two people who were meant for each other. We had been invited to a party at a friend's house. The house was in a grove of pine trees, and I parked beneath one of them. I'd like to say that there was a bright full moon, but, as often happens in moments like these, we remember the event with great clarity, but the details are sketchy. A detail I do remember is that we both became aware of each other's presence in a way we had never before experienced, and began to kiss. The kiss became a passionate embrace, and that was the moment when nothing else in the world mattered. There's a line in the song, When a Man Loves a Woman about seeing your unborn children in her eyes. When we pulled apart and looked into each other's eyes, I don't know if I was seeing our unborn children, but I was seeing something I had never seen before. "Should we go into the party?" I asked. "No," she replied.
Everyone has those moments like we had, Dear, moments when being with each other is all that matters. It is comforting now to look back at some of ours and see them for what they were--brief moments when two ordinary people felt the grace of the gift of an extraordinary love. By losing ourself in each other we became who we were.
Oh, Anne is going to be staying at our house for the rest of this week while she works in Detroit. When I awoke this morning it felt good to hear someone stirring in the house and smell coffee brewing. And, yes, I did remember to get a card for her adoption birthday. We are still negotiating a gift.
Ours wasn't one of those fabled "love at first sight" encounters. We liked each other, and dated after our initial meeting, but continued dating others. Surprisingly, I wasn't crushed when Gwen told me that she had dated the same guy all during her break break at Christmas but saw it as a challenge to become someone she would see exclusively. I too had dated other women during that time, but was still feeling fragile as the result of a previous love affair that had gone badly. Over time, we became fascinated with each other. I knew that I was hooked when I began to "stalk" her. Everyone knows how that goes; I knew what her schedule of classes was, and would conveniently arrange to be at the foot of the long stairway in Pierce Hall when she came down from her history class. "I didn't know you had a class this hour." "Could I help you carry your books?" "What are your plans for the weekend?"
Later in the spring we were what a that time was called "going steady." I asked Gwen to attend the dinner dance at my fraternity, and then heard that a guy from another fraternity was going to ask her to go to his. It was quite unlike me, but I immediately sought out that guy and let him know in no uncertain terms that as far as I was concerned Gwen was off limits to him. I told Gwen about it the night we fell in love. She said that she didn't like the guy and wouldn't have accepted his invitation, but I could see in her eyes that she liked what I had done.
One night Gwen and I were "studying" in the library. Actually, she was teaching me how to write shorthand, I would have to pass the class if I wanted to become a business teacher. She said that she couldn't concentrate because I gave her too much to think about herself. She wrote me a note in shorthand that I still have. In it she mentions "what happened" last weekend, and said the she wasn't ready to talk about it; she was confused about it. What had happened was a moment when we became simply who we were; two people who were meant for each other. We had been invited to a party at a friend's house. The house was in a grove of pine trees, and I parked beneath one of them. I'd like to say that there was a bright full moon, but, as often happens in moments like these, we remember the event with great clarity, but the details are sketchy. A detail I do remember is that we both became aware of each other's presence in a way we had never before experienced, and began to kiss. The kiss became a passionate embrace, and that was the moment when nothing else in the world mattered. There's a line in the song, When a Man Loves a Woman about seeing your unborn children in her eyes. When we pulled apart and looked into each other's eyes, I don't know if I was seeing our unborn children, but I was seeing something I had never seen before. "Should we go into the party?" I asked. "No," she replied.
Everyone has those moments like we had, Dear, moments when being with each other is all that matters. It is comforting now to look back at some of ours and see them for what they were--brief moments when two ordinary people felt the grace of the gift of an extraordinary love. By losing ourself in each other we became who we were.
Oh, Anne is going to be staying at our house for the rest of this week while she works in Detroit. When I awoke this morning it felt good to hear someone stirring in the house and smell coffee brewing. And, yes, I did remember to get a card for her adoption birthday. We are still negotiating a gift.
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