No Damseling Required
Today is a very important day, gentle viewers. So I am going to tell you a story, because that’s what I do.
Once upon a time on a November morn, a wee beach ball was born. She had dimples in her elbows and dimples in her knees, and hair that already couldn’t decide what colour it wanted to be.
She grew up curious and inquisitive, always knowing what she wanted (though she managed to learn how not to throw temper tantrums when she didn’t get it). She lived far away from family in a cold, cold land full of soaring eagles and volcanoes and plants the size of monsters and trees that looked like dragons.
Sometimes she would venture off to meet strange creatures known as cousins.
And she moved around as she grew bigger. She devoured books and tried to write her own. She survived junior high war zones and high school political death matches. She explored faith and history and magic and the world.
She made new friends from all over the planet. New friends of different species!
But she did it all alone, just her and a
heap of luggage backpack.
When she returned from her travels, she met a boy. He wasn’t a very nice boy. Indeed he was quite cruel.
So she left him in search of Something Greater. She moved half a country away, driving seventeen hours to a new home she’d never seen, with only the ghost of messages connecting her to the people she would share it with.
She didn’t know that years before, someone had been born in her mother’s land.
What she knew least was that he would be living in her new home.
And when she arrived, he didn’t look like that. He looked like this.
He left with an invitation for her to visit, and neither thought they were serious. But come Halloween in that fate-full year, she did.
And it was grand and full of magic and wonder and new friends who became old friends with time.
But there were still several states between their homes.
Call it magic or dumb luck or fortune or coincidence, but the girl and the boy moved to the same city, to the nation’s capital, to try their hands at a new life. And there they met again.
It was three years ago today that they decided not to be without each other anymore.
Until one day, he told her he wanted to stay with her forever.
He told her that he wanted to grow old with her.
And she said she wanted to grow old with him too.
And one year ago today, they told the rest of the world the same thing.
It was a blustery, drizzly day, because sometimes life is blustery and drizzly. But if you have someone to share it with, it keeps you warm.
And if you have someone to dance with, it keeps you warmer still.
When you can share your warmth with others, it makes you warmer still.
She found someone to adventure with, someone to weather the blustery days and take joy from the rain with. And she did it the way she’d always wanted to do it, finding an equal. A friend. A partner.
No damseling required.
Thank you all for sharing this year with me. I can’t imagine a better group of folks than you — you all add warmth to my life too.
I’m off to spend the day celebrating my family and the first year of our handfasting. With the leap year, it’s been a year and a day since we tied the knot, and we both want it to last for many years to come. Three years ago we became girlfriend and boyfriend, and one year ago became husband and wife.
May your day be filled with joy and love and warmth. May you take measure of the harvest of life’s bounty in this autumn season as the earth bears its final fruits before the long sleep of winter. May you gather it to yourself and know that your best is still yet to come.
Posted on October 2, 2012, in life intervention and tagged anniversary, autumn, blessings, emmie mears, fantasy, Harvest, journey, love, love story, marriage, warmth. Bookmark the permalink. 16 Comments.