April 13, 2006.
Seven years ago today, I had a date after work on a Tuesday. A baseball game. It wasn’t a first date, but still, one of the first handful. The Peoria Chiefs were playing and I remember him mentioning (in excitement) that Hall-of-Famer Fergie Jenkins would be there. (I told him I had no idea who that was. It would be my first of many such responses with regard to a) baseball, b) basketball and c) actors, and movie quotes/references.) What can I say, I’ve never been the girl to pretend I’m into something that I’m not.
He picked me up at my house on that balmy kind of spring evening. Slightly warm, slightly chilly, the smell of fresh earth in the air, with the lingering promise of a storm on the horizon. I remember looking forward to the time to just hang out and get to know him better. And I did.
A few notable memories from the night. When he ordered a beer at the concession stand, and in so doing, got out his ID, I asked if I could see his Driver’s License photo. I pretended it was to tease him about his photo. Truth is, I really wanted to see his birth date because I wasn’t sure exactly how old he was.
I remember him being very polite and a gentleman to me in ways that I never really realized I cared about, until they happened to me for the first time. Just little things… him asking if I’d like anything, could he get me anything while he was up? Even the fact that he thought to plan in advance and brought a blanket with him in case I got cold at the game. Really? No one I’d ever dated had been so… thoughtful. I remember thinking the blanket part was just so cute. I felt cared about in a new way. Taken care of. Again, something I never realized I cared so much about, until it happened.
We chatted and watched the game, his right arm draped around the back of my seat. When the storm came, we dodged it, barely, running to the car while the lightning streaked through the clouds, the sky turned purplish black, and giant, slow plops of rain started to hit the pavement. By the time we left the parking lot, his wipers couldn’t move fast enough to clear our view. We stopped at his house to pick up something, and then he asked if I’d like to drive out to where he was building his house. As we sat at the stoplight, Garth Brooks’ “And the Thunder Rolls” played while real thunder rolled outside the car windows. I remember feeling very at peace — very “at home” that night. It was a very good feeling.
He was excited about the house he was building, and I could tell he was also anxious to show it to me. I may not have known it that night, but he was showing me the home that I would move into a year-and-a-half-later when we got married. He welcomed me into his life, openly and unconditionally. If only I could have told my younger self, “Just wait. THIS is what it should feel like.” His warmth and sincerity, and interest in me as a person were all a breath of fresh air. In the weeks to come, the sparks of all I felt that night only amplified as more formal dates grew into late-night phone calls (which he always ended with telling me “Sweet Dreams”) and impromptu movie nights, dog walks and ice cream outings. It wasn’t always smooth sailing, but it was the beginning of a really good (once-in-a-lifetime) thing.
So, today, an exact seven years later, I want him to know a few things. I want to tell my husband that the ways he takes care of me — everyday, and on special occasions — mean the world to me. He is my calm before the storm. Much of my strength is rooted in him, and yet he has no idea this is my reality. I want him to know that I don’t take all of the “little things” for granted. On that night at the baseball game, I may have wondered if his thoughtful gestures were really who he is, or part of “courting” the girl. Luckily for me, they were genuinely who he is. The “baseball-date blankets” of yesterday have become today’s juice boxes when my blood sugar is low, surprise magazines from the grocery store, and complimentary turn-down service at bed time. I want him to know how when I hear him tell our daughter, “Sweet dreams”, I’m instantly taken back to those late-night chats… how when he holds a door for me, my heart swells knowing this is the guy who is helping me to raise two respectful young men. This is the man who will show my daughter never to settle, because she will know what it feels like to be cherished.
It’s no wonder I welcome the sound of a thunderstorm.
I am so lucky.
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