On Meeting my Future Husband

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On Sunday, October 26, I was mildly uncomfortable at the sight of the man who will soon be my husband. We were separated by a crowd of church-goers milling about in the Student Union Building. He had asked me out the week prior and our first date was in a couple of days. Although we had known of each other for years, I had only had a couple of brief conversations with him. From a ways off I could surmise a few things. He was hairy. So hairy. And tall. His face looked stern and his eyes were so large and dark it was, at least at that exact second, intimidating.

I insisted to myself that it was no big deal if he was interesting or boring, tall or short, hairy or bald. After all we were just grabbing coffee. I was confidant that I could spend an hour of my time with just about anyone on the planet. This boy would be no exception. But then I had the shocking realization that sometimes coffee dates lead to more coffee dates… which can lead to “dating” which can lead to having a boyfriend which can lead to having a husband?!

“Oh-no!…” I thought as I dared glance again at the sullen looking stranger.

A tightness grew in my chest that tends to grip me just before it becomes difficult to breath. I wanted to cry. What a dreadful realization to think you’ll have to marry someone who is nothing more to you than an acquaintance with very thick eyebrows!

Then I realized this was completely ridiculous. Obviously. So the feeling faded as quickly as it came.

“Perfect,” my mind nodded in response to its own voice of reason, “I will have a nice conversation with a nice boy and won’t even have to think about marrying anyone for a very long time. Just coffee…. I like that. Just coffee.”

Suddenly, I felt completely at ease.

I’m glad that who I was in that moment had no idea she would be engaged by February. I’m even more glad that who I am now knows that getting engaged to that big-eyed hairy man is the best earthly decision I’ve ever made.

However, if I had found out amid my pre-panic-attack that I would marry him, here’s what present me would have told October me:

20150318-115344.jpgFirst off, we both know those unreasonably large brown eyes are awesome. Don’t even pretend you don’t like them.

And yeah, he’s hairy, but you’ll learn to love that big mop on his head. Even after he finally cuts it off, you wouldn’t mind if he grew it back all over again.

It’s actually a good thing that he seems to be the size of a tree to you. That means you can climb him like a koala bear at any given moment. It’s pretty fun and he won’t even think you’re strange.

Don’t be tricked into thinking he’s all that serious. He’s actually a goof. He will laugh with you about anything from silly and sweet to blatantly crass. Which reminds me, he’s not a legalistic bore and thinks all the things you used to get scolded for are cute. You know… “naughty” words, tight skirts, passionate outbursts. They’re his favorite when it comes to you.

Don’t think he’s stern. He has the warmest heart of anyone you’ve ever met. When you are selfish and unreasonable, he will be patient and kind. When you are rigid towards him, he will be soft towards you. More often than not, he’ll be the one teaching you how to be more sensitive.

20150318-164316.jpgTurns out, you were right the first time you met him when you were sixteen. Remember? You thought he was cute. You noticed his kind heart. You liked that he was nerdy. You hoped, almost expected, that someday, a ways down the road, you’d marry him. Even when you dutifully brushed the thought aside, it didn’t frighten you. It felt like your own little secret, knowing that the two of you would be perfect together.

Right now, you’re too frightened by life to notice, but that’s okay. It’s his little secret now and he knows it better than you ever did. He’ll patiently adore you until you figure it out:

The two of you will be perfect together. 

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Show Your Blue

She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid,
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by–
And never knew.
💙Shel Silverstein💙

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Show your blue.
The sad, the strange,
the unbroken unchained,
the playful, the wild,
that zealous inner place.

It’s not a blue made only for you, so love it and share it in all that you do.

They won’t like it, you see.
Most of the others.
Too much blue makes you strange.
Amidst the beige covers.
You’re thinking too much to stay still like the rest,
And loving too deeply
All this blue in your chest.

And for every day embracing your blue,
The others uncertain and wary of you,
You only grow stranger and more like yourself.
Blue bounces off cupboards and ceilings and shelfs.

There’s too much blue to hide anymore,
So you scramble for shards of masks on the floor,
But another soul that’s been there all the while,
Shows his blue too and two blue just smile.

Muse (1)

Be my muse so I can write a story about the way you burn toast and leave your socks on the floor. I don’t know if anyone else will think the story is any good, but it will be my favorite. I will write a chapter on how you can’t hold a pitch but I still love to hear you sing, a chapter on your blue car with a rip in the back seat, a chapter about your once red hoodie now fading to pink. You still wear it anyway because you like the way my nose crinkles when you take it off and throw it onto me.

Two chapters will tell about staying up ‘til dawn, laughing at all we’ve left behind. A chapter and a half to show that I was wrong when I ran away, wasting my time.

A page to retell how I knew you unequivocally, but only as a child when we went frog hunting in the pond.

A paragraph for your favorite book, which you read five times in the seventh grade.

A sentence for the tattoo you regret.

A word for when you close your eyes.

The story isn’t being paced quite right. Authors cringe and editors turn me away but I just keep writing because it reminds me of you and I never want you to go away.

So another chapter about when we debate never-ending subjects in the sunshine.

Two more about fist fights with your cousins in the snow.

Another about baking Angel Food Cake just so you could throw flour in my hair.

Then another for the laughter that sang from the ground up as I watched you get stuck in our favorite tree.

One more about scotch by the riverside.

Be my muse and I’ll write it all down.

Caleb

This is Caleb. His super powers include taking great photos and being surprisingly effervescent. His weakness? Being way too easily distracted by beautiful things. But that helps with the photography aspect of life… So it’s not such a bad weakness to have.

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It is uncommon to find people who really see the world, who actually see others. How many times a day is the old Admin building passed, glanced at, overlooked? How many times a day do individuals look at one another and fail to truly see anything worthwhile? The best artists show the world what they see, and Caleb sees a lot. I have an assumption that his camera can never keep up.

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I’ve had a few shots of him for several weeks from a brief adventure we took to welcome the new year. They’ve been used to practice sketching buildings and stairwells. Usually I dislike drawing anything that can’t answer back. So… when is comes to architecture I doodle and break every shading law in existence because I prefer to scribble without thought.

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But a couple sketches, while lacking in plenty of ways, turned out to be at least interesting. So here’s to many moments of sketching in coffee shops without diligence and sneaking a sharpie out of my backpack in class from time to time. A line at five, a shadow at ten. It’s not much, but it adds up to plenty of scribbles which I’m going to go ahead and call art.

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A Boy Named Brayden

The goal was simply to capture what I saw: a little boy, sitting in the sunshine, after a long nap.

This is the first from my Art Perspectives Project. I will be drawing the same subject from various angles. These are just sketches with a touch of watercolor.