Do you have a love story in your life? Most of us do. But sometimes we forget it. I have a really good one. I thought about selling it to a Hollywood producer for a movie, or at least a Hallmark made for t.v. movie, but I could never decide who should play all the parts. Besides, I really want to talk about it today, so Suzanne, my love – this blog is for you:
The story starts way back in 1989 when I decided to flee America for a year through an exchange program to England. The reasons for this decision were anything but romantic – they had to do with the increasing trouble that my drinking was getting me into, and the fact that I thought those troubles would not follow me across the ocean. My grades at the time were pitifully mediocre, and I had to “Razzle Dazzle” the exchange program director with an annoying persistence about how much I wanted to go until she gave up and gave in.
Before beginning the semester in England, a group of us who were on the exchange program travelled by train through Europe. We had only met briefly before the trek, so we really knew very little about each other. We spent two weeks traveling, seeing the sites, and bonding. It was amazing, and it was the first time I had taken a chance and gone with a group of people I knew nothing about for a very loosely planned romp around unknown parts. Needless to say, by the time we got to the college, we knew each other intimately.
But that is only the preamble to my love story. Our group up to that point had been a mix of males and females, and I thought that a few of the females were attractive, but I was at a point in my life where I had sworn off love and romance for various reasons “most of them to allow for my intimate relationship with alcohol,” so I really wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. But all that was about to change. Because on the second day at our new college I was introduced to the other American students that had arrived from America and had come strait to the school a few days before we rolled in from our travels. These three girls were sharing a flat, and wanted to hear about our adventures. As we began to tell our story to one of the co-eds, the woman appeared that would change my life forever. She was a knockout – long, thick black hair that undulated with life as she walked – it literally flowed from her head down her shoulders and onto her back. She had a “strut” as well – smooth and cool as she entered the room, made a quick glance at me, and said “Hello.” The most striking feature about this girl was her eyes. They were unbelievably intense, a radiant mixture of green and brown that no artist could have imitated or imagined. My heart had started to pound, and I had trouble maintaining eye contact. I wanted to disappear, but I also wanted to stare again, to gaze upon this beautiful woman for hours. I figured she would give me and the crew of dirty travelers around the room one look and be off to find others on the campus that were closer to “her league.”
Much to my surprise, and somewhat to my dismay, because I now found that my armpits had started to sweat and I was getting that constricting feeling in my throat – she sat down directly across from me and joined in on the conversation. One of the travelers was now talking about the fact that we had basically lived on stale bread, various cheese products, and water over the last few days because of a lack of money. I had shut up completely, and was busy looking at the patterns in the rug, trying to compose myself for another look into those eyes and that beautifully framed face.
“Oh,” I heard her say. “Are you hungry? We have some bagels here if you want one.” I took the chance of looking up. She was looking directly at me – smiling, radiating light and joy and affection. I was immediately lost again in the eyes – how the hell did she get those eyes, and that face, and that hair! And why was she looking at me? Oh, yes, she had said something – what was it? Food? A bagel? Fortunately, she did not wait for my response. “I’ll make you one” she offered and stood up and left the room.
“Oh, yes,” the other girl started “Suzanne had those bagels delivered to her by her new boyfriend today!”
“Boyfriend?” one of the travelers asked – already?
“Yes, well we went out to a few clubs last night and one particular English boy was quite fond of her – he drove us all home last night and showed up with a special delivery of bagels when he heard how much she liked them!” the girl explained.
“Too bad you already have a boyfriend at home, huh, Suzanne? This English guy is a real hottie!”
The girl with the magic eyes reentered the room, her cheeks now slightly flushed “Oh, would you stop it. They are only bagels!” she said. And then she gave me one of the bagels – she gave it to me – the one on top – THE FIRST BAGEL! It was slightly burned, topped with a horrendous tasting butter substitute, and it was the best bagel I have ever had – before or after that day.
Now fast forward 21 years. Two decades of life, and love and loss since that first meeting. Together. Apart. Silences. Absences. Reconciliations. Faith. Long, precious, awkward moments. Passion. Intense obsession. Oneness. Tears, fears, and cheers of joy. Additions, subtractions, and reflections on times and people and things gone by – all the time that has gone by, and all the time yet to come. Knowing without speaking. And always the laughter. Buckets, barrels, and basins full of laughter through it all. My whole life, my purpose, my hope, my strength, my everything reflected in those eyes through the last 21 years. Amazing. Astounding. Miraculous. A love story. Our love story.
I have a few people, couples to be more accurate, that I have observed, and admired, and sought advice from over the years. All of them have told me basically the same thing: relationships are hard; stay together no matter what; try not to be selfish, life is too short to stay angry and hold resentments; be grateful every day for each other; keep talking; keep listening; work hard on your relationship; avoid temptations; remain friends. These are good things for me to remember. They are not really hard, but it seems that I forget them sometimes. I take things for granted. I take my life, and my wife for granted. I forget the miracle that she is in my life at all. I whine, I complain, I get caught up in the day to day trivialities that I allow to take my focus away from what is really important, what is truly important. I forget about the bagel.
Today I hope that you all pause to honor the miraculous love stories in your own lives. They are there is you look. today I honor my bride, my true love, my Suzanne. I love you now and all ways…
Brian-
what a beautiful testement:)
I hope you are all well—I am forwarding to Ricky:)
Would love to gab with you sometime
best wishes
Wow! Thanks…I love you too!XOXO
I really believe God knew how much you two would need each other in life, and therefore put you together. Relationships are indeed hard work. I am very thankful Suzanne and her family came into my life also. They have added so many wonderful things to it. Your children are very blessed to have you two as role models of true love.
Hmmmm…..nice story. I had an unusually similar experience 44 years ago with a girl with eyes that sound remarkably close in appearance to those of your Suzanne. There were no bagels involved(but…. there were boots!).
I’m real glad your story worked out. My story worked out nicely too.
(Great minds think alike?)