I’m not big on important dates and celebrations. It’s not because I’m a big old grouch. Okay.
I’m sort of curmudgeonly.
Life moves quickly; marking it in
big ways is a relentless endeavor. Plus,
you run the risk of missing something mundane that becomes extraordinary in
some way, just because your energy is focused on making the special more
special.
What I’m saying is: Heads up,
people. Time is fleeting. Seize the moment. There’s a birthday every day. Life is measured by little deviations as well as broad milestones like turning thirty or being married for thirty years. I like to look back at the eccentricities, not the same exact party every ten years.
Birthdays, anniversaries, dates of
first meetings, first I love you, first date, graduation, birth of first,
second, third child. What’s the big
deal? Who can remember all those dates?
There was a short period of time this year when I was under the
impression that my daughter’s birthday was two days after her actual
birthday. I literally had my daughter’s birthday wrong in my head. Imagine my surprise and desperation when I
realized that I cheated myself two days to make her big day as special as I could, which isn't saying much. Children are gracious.
Because of my laissez-faire view
of celebrations and big events in general, I married a guy to whom dates and
events are important and big and special.
He remembers all the details of every big event.
I don’t know the name of the
restaurant we ate at where we got engaged, but he could probably tell you the
name, where it was located, and even the name of our waiter. I can’t tell you what I ate but I’ll bet he can. I think he said that The Rolling Stones once
ate there.
Some time after our wedding I
confessed to a friend that I didn’t remember what day we got engaged. She barked at me, scolding “ANDREA. It was New Year’s Eve.”
New Year’s Eve, New Year’s
Eve. We got engaged on New Year’s
Eve. I repeat it in my head like a
mantra. Not instantly recalling these
details is embarrassing.
Our engagement is blurry. I remember wearing a hideous long chocolate
brown velvet dress that I hated but it was the only dress I owned. It was J. Crew. Or J. Jill.
Awful brown suede slippers to match.
They were almost too small – my toes scrunched in the tips. I vaguely remember some sort of box. Was it chocolate? A ring and a speech. Applause.
Did I cry? Did he?
I remember phone calls. Who did we call? Parents, probably. Friends, brothers, aunts, grandparents? I don’t know.
The Rolling Stones and an ugly brown
dress. These are the details I remember
from our engagement. These are the
oddball things I remember in general.
That night was a big deal. A night that began this life I am living
right now. We took care to nurture our
relationship and he took pains to organize this big part of its official start. I wonder if any of it would have happened if
it had been up to me. I wonder how much I’d
remember if it wasn’t for him.
I’m okay that he celebrates for
both of us. I get him a card if I think
of it in time. I feel bad that it involves a herculean effort
for me to do much more than this. I’m
the worst.
*******
This post inspired by:
Mama Kat's Writing Workshop
Prompt #4: Write a blog post inspired by the word: engaged.