Story for a Special Day

My husband has a startlingly accurate memory for details that connect to our history together. He remembers what I was wearing the night of our first kiss... the date of our first date... what he said to me the first time we met.

I am not so good at such details. I remember our first kiss, but I could not tell you what I had on or what he had on; I don't remember what I was wearing when he proposed or where he was sitting the first time I met him or the date of our first official outing together as a couple rather than friends.

I think this sometimes makes him sad, and I wish I had the gift for recollection that he has in this particular realm. It's ironic, because he is forgetful at times in other areas in which I excel - but in this regard he is far and away more able and accomplished.

But I do have several memories - snapshots, really - that stand out and comprise my picture of our history together:

Riding home in the car after a attending the corn fest in DeKalb, feeling relieved and amazed that he had a good time and was not making fun of me for suggesting we go. It was my first sense that we would do well on road trips and traveling together, and I felt encouraged that he might be able to tolerate my penchant for hokey/kitschy things.

Sitting across from one another outside at a cafe table in Italy, watching the sleepy life of our adopted town of Praiano float past... listening to the sounds of life in the piazza and watching the ocean kiss the rocks below our hotel. I felt so at peace and so lucky to be sharing such a beautiful night with my best friend. I wished we could stay like that into old age, sitting side by side and watching the simplicity of an ordinary day.

Sleeping fitfully in the hospital the very first night Ari was with us... Andy cramped in a fold-out chair impossible for sleep and doing everything he could to help Ari get comfortable, help me stay still, make sure we were both okay, all the while ignoring the hours slipping past before he had to return to work - the last place he wanted to be.

Watching him play with Ari, unaware of my presence, his whole heart and energy focused on his little girl. He reaches to the very depths of his creativity for her, and unflinchingly offers her favorite gags, stories, voices, characters, and bits over and over and over again - until one wonders if he might suddenly explode or collapse. He is filled with such love and generosity in those moments, and the childlike joy of his heart shines through.

There are many more from points before and after, from multiple times along the spectrum of our friendship, courtship, marrying, and marriage. And I very much look forward to the ones yet to come.