20 years ago

I awoke committed to breaking up with you.

I was 15 and under the impression that I was a heroine in a Jane Austen novel. You were a 16 year old boy who was no match for the 18th century gentleman in his mid-30’s I expected you to be. We were doomed to misunderstandings and frustration. On October 2, 1985 I was ready to throw in the towel.

I don’t remember how or when I planned to tell you. I just remember you beckoning me over to your locker first thing to present me with a flower. Since high on my list of grievances was your unwillingness to bestow tokens of your love on me I was surprised and confused. Of all the days! And then you explained that it was your birthday and that it seemed fitting to give…well, I can’t really remember what you said because the blood was rushing to my ears and I knew I could not break up with you on your birthday.

Now Pretty, have you ever given me anything ever again on your birthday?

No.

I awoke early and this long forgotten memory floated by. I don’t know if I ever told you my intentions that morning.

Getting into the Suburban after school, Mom asked me if I had broken up with you since it had been a topic of discussion the night before.

“It was his birthday and he gave me a flower!” I moaned.

I remember the sound of her laughter as she pulled onto Pennsylvania Avenue.

And so we continued dating. You were still my boyfriend, although I didn’t like to call you that because it seemed so juvenile, never mind that I was one. Too bad I hadn’t read Tennessee Williams yet or I could have claimed you as my Gentleman Caller. Whatever you were and whatever I was to you I was there when your father died, the following April, his terrible death and our childhoods died with him.

I don’t know if I have ever put the two situations together. I haven’t thought about that birthday for years but this morning, remembering in the darkness, it was so clear that that small impulse of giving me a flower kept us together for me to walk with you through your father’s death which forged a bond that kept us together through our difficult courtship.

Sometimes in the trivial moments, the kids running around, you busy doing something, I am awed that we made it through, that we actually got married. I am so thankful that I get to be with you. I am grateful that you are no longer a victim of my demands and expectations and I am no longer a victim of your reticence.

There is so much pain and loss in our story but even more touches of grace and mercy, points where God preserved us. I see this now.

If I could go back 20 years ago I would receive that flower differently. I would try to show the proper reverance for the chance to hold a divine intervention. I would look you in the eyes and smile as I said silently, to God, thank you, thank you, thank you and, out loud, Happy Birthday, to you.