Eleven years ago today, BJay and I got married. What I remember from that morning are
1. I didn’t want to wash my hair the day before because I didn’t want my hair to be too curly.
2. I didn’t have any white shoes so I wore slippers with my wedding dress (even outside in November).
3. I didn’t want to fuss with my appearance. I think about that decision all the time. In the temple where we were married there is a beautiful bride’s room. Its like some fairytale dressing room with lighted mirrors and everything you could need to freshen up. I refused to go in. The temple matron insisted I at least look at the place so I did. I checked my appearance in the mirror and decided I was fine. I wore my hair down in loose curls, lipstick, eyeliner and mascara. That was it.
4. When it was time for me to say the most important word of my life during the actual ceremony… you know the “I do” except in ours it is “yes” my voice failed. I said the word and no sound came out. Somewhere, deep down I guess I was nervous. I don’t remember feeling nervous at all.
5. My friends were there, my family was there… my dad was there.
6. Smiling hurt after a while.
I don’t know why nothing I remember was directly about BJay. I’m guessing that is because we are old married people now. Our relationship is comfortable. Its like we’ve always been together. Last year on our anniversary we went to Chapel Hill to get the pathology results from my 2nd thyroid surgery. Now that cancer is mostly behind me I thought this year we could celebrate without thinking about it. This morning I woke up with a super-swollen jaw. One of my salivary glands has decided to get backed up 5 months after my RAI. It only hurts if I eat, but I look like a lop-sided chipmunk. This morning BJay wished me a happy anniversary in bed and I felt my jaw and asked him if he could see the swelling and he said something that made me feel like I had grown a second head. LOL. I emailed my Dr. and he said its normal. I guess this is just a friendly reminder that our love can overcome everything. Even mutant faces. A year or two after we were married, I made BJay this little scrapbook with all our sappy emails and all my love poetry. I’m going to torture everyone with some things from that book today. To start, my first love letter… a declaration really:
B.J. (That was before I knew he spelled his name BJay, the letter came with the gift of a sling-shot)
I bought this sling shot in Pakistan at Friday market in Islamabad. Later that day we drove to Taxila, which is about an hour’s drive from Islamabad. Taxila is in the foothills of Pakistan near Afghanistan. I don’t remember why I bought the sling shot, I think it was just cool or something. But later, in Taxila, I was walking with Ann up to some old Buddhist ruins. On the way we passed some children bathing in a stream. There were rolling green pastures and the sun was just setting. On the way back I saw a shepherd boy with his dog. he was moving his sheep toward home by throwing rocks at them. I remembered the sling shot from Friday market and I took it out of my bag to give to him but for some reason I didn’t. Either I got really shy, or I thought Ann would get mad at me or maybe I just though it was a stupid idea. Anyway, I passed by the boy and his dog and just as I was out of earshot I snapped a picture. So I have this memory of that strange, slow time and a silhouette of a boy and his dog standing at the top of a hill at sunset.
Every time I see that sling shot I think of something unfinished. So many times I come to a perfect moment with something to give or say and the courage or words just get choked up in me. And then the moment passes and whatever it was is just a frustrated memory. How many times have I wondered, “why am I awkward, why am I graceless” (This was a quote from Dostoyevsky’s Notes from the Underground, a book I later tried to give BJay to read). But time will prove this to be my alibi some day. I think that admiration is the focus of joy, so whatever I have admired in you has been pleasant. I wanted you to have this sling shot to remind you to (this is where I misspelled “seize” as “cease” a mistake that I realized as soon as I gave the letter and as soon as I was in possession of the letter again I inked in the correct spelling) the day. I feel so fearless sometimes, as if the whole world is open to me and I can touch the heart of it’s mystery. And at the same time I can get to such heights and let some idle fear stop me from finding something new. i have always wanted to know you, dear Bridger, and I can’t even talk to you. Perfect excuses have always found me. My awkwardness and gracelessness seem to have swallowed me. I don’t know why. Probably because I think so much of you.
Its funny how comfortable it is to write this. Please don’t think I’m strange for writing this letter. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.
(I didn’t even sign it.)
BTW, I was 19 and fairly… young. So please don’t point out to me that a shepherd might not want to use a sling shot to herd his own sheep… I get that now.
Oh, later I found this note in my car (from BJay)
Behold, thou art fair, my love;
behold, thou are fair; thou hast
dove’s eyes within thy locks: thy
hair is a flock of goats, that appear
from Mt. Gilead.
(Song of Soloman 4:1)
and two more short poems…
Attraction
Predatory glances
fill me–
caught
by your gaze
I swallow the
helium welling up in me
and look
past you
to the wall.
The air is a fever–
(we are) magnets
not touching
but
overwhelmingly
drawn…
muse
If i took your words
and laid them at your feet
could you feel them the
way I do?
Each syllable precise
Each phrase, lisping,
stammering,
dripping constant.
I lean on them through
the hours of the day
I hear your voice
softly distant.
I am fastened to you
by the sounds you press on me–
they are trophies for my ears,
kisses on my heart.
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