Ode to Son
Our
relationship began in February, 1979, but in all actuality, I had been dreaming
about this man for many years. He would be tall – say six feet six inches; no,
he would be of average height, five feet, eleven inches. His hair was straight
and dark. No, he had flowing blonde locks. My vision of him changed through the
years, but one thing I did know – when we met, he would be everything I had
ever wanted, and more.
We
began communicating nine months before we spoke face to face. Our initial
introduction was exciting, exhilarating, and I knew our relationship would be
one that could last a lifetime, if I was patient. So I learned the fine art of
patience. This is not to say there weren’t anxious moments. Some days I heard
nothing from him, not even a peep. Other days he would not leave me alone,
making sure I was always aware he was in my life. We shared our dreams, our
hopes, our fears, our plans for the future, and we began planning a life
together.
I
commenced gathering items I knew he would love: plants – he was a lover of all
things green; books – he was a voracious reader, and his appetite was for
history and people; food – I knew he hated broccoli and cauliflower, but he
loved salads, pastas, and garlic. I began making a list of all I wanted to tell
him. I pictured long days in front of a warm fire holding each other and
talking about our childhoods. I would teach him the first game I remembered
learning – “button, button, who’s got the button,” and pray he would never ask
me the first swear word I used and the discipline I received when my mother
overheard me calling my neighbor that awful word. We would laugh as we
discussed where fire came from and how many stories the logs were telling as
they kept us warm.
This
communicating and gathering occupied most of my waking, and toward the end,
sleeping moments. But, with all the dreaming came worrying. Would I be all he
wanted me to be? Had I misrepresented myself to him, and would he be
disappointed in my face, my cooking, my decorating, my style? I knew he
could love me unconditionally, but would he really do that? I never once
wondered if I could give him all of my love, but I did wonder if it would be
enough to sustain a long-term relationship.
On
October 15, 1980, I knew his arrival was imminent. I cleaned the house, stocked
the refrigerator, made sure all outside contacts and errands had been taken
care of. I didn’t want anything to interfere with our first few days together.
The outside world could wait. He said he would be at my disposal beginning
November 2nd. By Halloween evening all was in place. If he were to
knock on the door, dressed as a pirate, I would recognize him and be prepared
to share my life with him. I spent Halloween evening watching “Arsenic and Old
Lace,” but this movie was only a bandage – the anticipation far outweighed any
distraction the movie provided. I knew, I knew he was on his way.
November 1st,
I could feel it in my bones, today was the day. By noon I could wait no longer;
where was he? I was fearful – would he stand me up? After nine months, was he
even real? Was this all an apparition?
No, No, Yes, Yes,
he was real – I can see the back of his head – dark hair, his shoulders,
his body, his legs. Turn, please, let me see your face, are you who I
think you are? And with this request, he turned to face me. All my hopes,
dreams, fears, joys, and sorrows became reality. There, in my arms, was the man
I had conjured for nine months. Our eyes met; I dove quickly and deeply into
those pools of blue; regardless of what our future held, he was
mine.
That was an absolute, breathtakingly priceless, best use of human language and words, that summed up and described what it's like as a new mother waiting for your firstborn to come into this world. You hit the nail on the head, and I'm so glad he turned out to be just the man you knew he would be. Great work, Ronda!!! Happy Birthday Tyler.
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