(Sort of almost not an open letter.)
What I would say to you, knowing I love you and knowing that you're scared, despite going up and coming back down in one piece dozens of times, and yet alone. It makes a difference and this does not emasculate you because we're with you for the first time ever, and you're more concerned with what happens to your family then to yourself. That's beautiful but not logical, for we finally have you and we're not going to lose you now.
I know you can't see how it will work but it always does. Every day, every hour and we will be no different. Simply remarkable beauty that people might turn and admire, briefly, obscured by their own preoccupations and quickly forgotten as they continue their own paths.
We continue ours, of course. And we'll work our way through the hundreds of miles one leg of the journey at a time and when we get there we'll unclench our fists and open them wide and touch the sky and the sea all at once and taste the air, salty with the summer's gift to your girl.
Your girl, who will be enveloped in the cool brine of the ocean. Be jealous, for she will be swallowed by her lover and then reluctantly handed back to you on a wave, frothing with envy.
It's so worth it. We just have to get there. Do not be afraid of this. Not now. Not here, with me.
Don't make this difficult, like everything else has been.
For this, this is so simple. We make up the miles with camera and sweaters in hand and we go in search of the place where we first felt the lightning and where I didn't hear you when you said that I was so beautiful and so you need to say it once more in the same place. Because I have to hear it for myself. Because I never believed that you could ever be this wonderful, this loving, this...mine. And now I want to come back and shout it into the waves so it can be tumbled and polished and thrown back to the beach for us to pry out of the wet sand and bring home. The permanence of that alone gives me reason to do this. The need to rewrite a little history and all of the present and possibly some of our future in the places we hold deepest within our hearts. In the places where we'll hear the familiar accents and eat the same food we ate for most of our lives and the place that welcomes us, flawed, ruined and half-put-back together. That place.
You know it well, that one place you're going to have pull me away from, tears in my eyes once again at the mere whisper of goodbyes. It will not be easy.
Fear of dying is going to be the least of the worries this time. You can do this.
And I am not afraid. And I don't want to feed your fear but I feel like a shroud around you and I want you to shrug it off and if I could I would lend you my lengendary faltering confidence because it works for everything except me and so it would carry you there just fine.
But since I can't do that, instead I will hold your hand and squeeze it very tightly and remind you often to breathe, and it will be okay. So take my hand and let's go.
Wednesday 9 August 2006
Tuesday 8 August 2006
Reducing/Reasoning.
Sometimes you are just left, standing in the centre of yourself while the debris of experience floats to the ground all around you. You can never go back. The only path leads forward and yet you're nailed to the ground somehow, unable to move, hell, unable to react. Just standing like stone, lips apart in a gasp of total disbelief, eyes filled with tears that will not fall no matter how hard you try simply to move, to do anything at all.
Sometimes you are reduced to tears, surprised by yourself, surprised by your own strength, your own choices, your own will to change that path, to find a new one even though you know that you'll get scratched and bitten, that it's dark, dangerous, unexplored territory. Unexploited. Knowing that if you make the wrong choice you can't go back and so you can't fail, dammit. Only you're not strong enough and you can't find it by yourself and that's when you're so close to giving up you can taste the bitterness under your tongue and you refuse to savor it.
Well, that...that's when you know that maybe you're not as weak as you once thought.
Fragile, yes. Without a doubt in their minds, or even in yours.
Weak, no.
The unheard gasp confirms that you have faltered and then your words take the wind from your own sails, because you don't hear the questions. You don't hear your loved ones seeking out their confirmation. They are left to wait and watch and read, later on, when you can close your mouth and the tears fall at last. And then you write. You pour it out, a deluge, and it tumbles and spills all over the page and it's a mess. But you...you take your time, and you shakily get down on your hands and knees in the bright lights you have brought in just for this purpose and you arrange and reaarange those words on your canvas and soon the picture comes into focus and now they know. Now everyone knows and you can rest.
Because the letters mean everything, and the words mean nothing and sometimes it's the other way around and sometimes, just sometimes it's not clear and it won't become clear and you just don't care.
Nope. Bridget, sometimes you just don't care if anyone can figure it out.
The most touching thing in the world, in my world. Don't you see it?
I could sit here for hours arranging my letters, trying to give them meaning and failing.
I refuse to fail and so the hours pass unwillingly. My neck aches, my shoulders shake. I can't get it out. I try so hard and still nothing falls into place. Some days are like that. Sitting frozen at the keyboard. A statue of a girl who can seem so animated and yet so stiff.
And then two large, tanned hands slide over mine, arms around my shoulders to reach the keys, and the long fingers will type out a word, and isn't it ironic that it was the word I was looking for all this time. And the stopper is removed and then the meaning falls into the jumble and I can fish it out and rinse it off and nail it to the page and everyone knows then. They all know because all this time he knew. He knew exactly what I wanted to say, but he was never going to say it for me. No, he knows more and it comes easier for he rests without such a heavy heart. And when he is rested he holds the light and shines it so that I can see. And when I find it I fix it in one place so I won't have to look anymore.
Completing the sentences is why I am in this place. Because when I can't finish it, he can.
Sometimes you are reduced to tears, surprised by yourself, surprised by your own strength, your own choices, your own will to change that path, to find a new one even though you know that you'll get scratched and bitten, that it's dark, dangerous, unexplored territory. Unexploited. Knowing that if you make the wrong choice you can't go back and so you can't fail, dammit. Only you're not strong enough and you can't find it by yourself and that's when you're so close to giving up you can taste the bitterness under your tongue and you refuse to savor it.
Well, that...that's when you know that maybe you're not as weak as you once thought.
Fragile, yes. Without a doubt in their minds, or even in yours.
Weak, no.
The unheard gasp confirms that you have faltered and then your words take the wind from your own sails, because you don't hear the questions. You don't hear your loved ones seeking out their confirmation. They are left to wait and watch and read, later on, when you can close your mouth and the tears fall at last. And then you write. You pour it out, a deluge, and it tumbles and spills all over the page and it's a mess. But you...you take your time, and you shakily get down on your hands and knees in the bright lights you have brought in just for this purpose and you arrange and reaarange those words on your canvas and soon the picture comes into focus and now they know. Now everyone knows and you can rest.
Because the letters mean everything, and the words mean nothing and sometimes it's the other way around and sometimes, just sometimes it's not clear and it won't become clear and you just don't care.
Nope. Bridget, sometimes you just don't care if anyone can figure it out.
The most touching thing in the world, in my world. Don't you see it?
I could sit here for hours arranging my letters, trying to give them meaning and failing.
I refuse to fail and so the hours pass unwillingly. My neck aches, my shoulders shake. I can't get it out. I try so hard and still nothing falls into place. Some days are like that. Sitting frozen at the keyboard. A statue of a girl who can seem so animated and yet so stiff.
And then two large, tanned hands slide over mine, arms around my shoulders to reach the keys, and the long fingers will type out a word, and isn't it ironic that it was the word I was looking for all this time. And the stopper is removed and then the meaning falls into the jumble and I can fish it out and rinse it off and nail it to the page and everyone knows then. They all know because all this time he knew. He knew exactly what I wanted to say, but he was never going to say it for me. No, he knows more and it comes easier for he rests without such a heavy heart. And when he is rested he holds the light and shines it so that I can see. And when I find it I fix it in one place so I won't have to look anymore.
Completing the sentences is why I am in this place. Because when I can't finish it, he can.
Monday 7 August 2006
I promise he isn't depraved.
BRIDGE!
Yes?
I don't suppose you could edit that.
No, I really can't.
My God, I sound depraved.
You sound healthy and happy, Jake.
Right, better for the porn platform than the pulpit, Bridge.
I think you've got a good balance going.
You would, but what about the rest of your readers?
Jake, who are you married to? Everyone knows what to expect.
Oh right. Okay then I guess I got what I wished for didn't I?
Everything and more, Jake. Everything and more.
Can we keep the more part off the internet though? Please?
Yes?
I don't suppose you could edit that.
No, I really can't.
My God, I sound depraved.
You sound healthy and happy, Jake.
Right, better for the porn platform than the pulpit, Bridge.
I think you've got a good balance going.
You would, but what about the rest of your readers?
Jake, who are you married to? Everyone knows what to expect.
Oh right. Okay then I guess I got what I wished for didn't I?
Everything and more, Jake. Everything and more.
Can we keep the more part off the internet though? Please?
Oops I did it again.
He's lucky it's a holiday.
Jacob finished the Stoli last night. Without a glass because he finds it ever more satisfying to drink it off me. I think I was flat on my back on the dining room table for close to an hour before I was yanked to the edge so he could finish us both off. And to think I used to HATE that table because it's too big, too high and too ridiculous. It's perfect now. Oh please, your imagination is barely required for those images. And again, I have no shame. Maybe I can grow some. Naw, then I wouldn't be me anymore and God help this planet if I can't just be myself.
Uncensored, uninhibited, unapologetic.
Writing as it happens, life from my tiny corner of the universe. Oddly, as embarrassing as I am to Jake (please, he doesn't mind) and to my friends they mind it more when I'm all buttoned up. Surprise. Not really. You would mind me buttoned-up too. I promise. I'm the friend who sticks her entire upper body through the sunroof of the limo and yells Woooooooo! on prom night. Someone has to do it. Life should be fully experienced. Fully. There is no room for shy, no room for hesitation and no room for stifling of impulsive happiness. If nothing else, I have confirmed that.
I won't ever make that mistake again.
It's a provincial holiday today. No session for Bridget. I get almost a full week off, we only have Thursday (hideous) couple's therapy this week. It's sort of akin to being hung out to dry but thankfully basking in the extreme happiness seems to be keeping the wild emotional binges at bay. In other words, I'm trying and succeeding to stay pleasantly busy to ensure a smooth week all around. We've got a week of rest and the coveted mediocrity before we leave next week for bluer waters.
From the west coast to the BEST coast, chickens.
If you thought I was going to now go off the deep end waxing poetic on my love for the Atlantic Ocean you are granted a reprieve, I'll save it for when we return. Because, unfortunately, we have to come back here. The kids will begin school, new routines will settle in and then shortly after that the snow will arrive, the temperatures will plunge back down into the incredible numbers of ohmyfuckIcantbelieveitsthiscold and I will keep on working my way back to that place where I am most comfortable.
I will warn you now, you have six more days to get your Bridget fix before I leave you with a twelve-day dry spell. So far the plan is to not take any laptops with us, since they'll be a pain in the ass but Jacob is slightly concerned of the whole idea of two weeks without therapists or writing comforts close at hand. We'll see.
More tomorrow, I'm off to enjoy a relaxing day with my family. Taking the kids to the zoo. Or something. Something fun.
Jacob finished the Stoli last night. Without a glass because he finds it ever more satisfying to drink it off me. I think I was flat on my back on the dining room table for close to an hour before I was yanked to the edge so he could finish us both off. And to think I used to HATE that table because it's too big, too high and too ridiculous. It's perfect now. Oh please, your imagination is barely required for those images. And again, I have no shame. Maybe I can grow some. Naw, then I wouldn't be me anymore and God help this planet if I can't just be myself.
Uncensored, uninhibited, unapologetic.
Writing as it happens, life from my tiny corner of the universe. Oddly, as embarrassing as I am to Jake (please, he doesn't mind) and to my friends they mind it more when I'm all buttoned up. Surprise. Not really. You would mind me buttoned-up too. I promise. I'm the friend who sticks her entire upper body through the sunroof of the limo and yells Woooooooo! on prom night. Someone has to do it. Life should be fully experienced. Fully. There is no room for shy, no room for hesitation and no room for stifling of impulsive happiness. If nothing else, I have confirmed that.
I won't ever make that mistake again.
It's a provincial holiday today. No session for Bridget. I get almost a full week off, we only have Thursday (hideous) couple's therapy this week. It's sort of akin to being hung out to dry but thankfully basking in the extreme happiness seems to be keeping the wild emotional binges at bay. In other words, I'm trying and succeeding to stay pleasantly busy to ensure a smooth week all around. We've got a week of rest and the coveted mediocrity before we leave next week for bluer waters.
From the west coast to the BEST coast, chickens.
If you thought I was going to now go off the deep end waxing poetic on my love for the Atlantic Ocean you are granted a reprieve, I'll save it for when we return. Because, unfortunately, we have to come back here. The kids will begin school, new routines will settle in and then shortly after that the snow will arrive, the temperatures will plunge back down into the incredible numbers of ohmyfuckIcantbelieveitsthiscold and I will keep on working my way back to that place where I am most comfortable.
I will warn you now, you have six more days to get your Bridget fix before I leave you with a twelve-day dry spell. So far the plan is to not take any laptops with us, since they'll be a pain in the ass but Jacob is slightly concerned of the whole idea of two weeks without therapists or writing comforts close at hand. We'll see.
More tomorrow, I'm off to enjoy a relaxing day with my family. Taking the kids to the zoo. Or something. Something fun.
Sunday 6 August 2006
No, cake did not come out of my nose.
Someone's relaxed now.
It might not be me. Or it might be. In this entry, it isn't me.
Last night around 11 we collapsed on the couch. With sustenance. So tired. So starving. So damn worn out. We hung on to the living room just to stop the spinning for a few moments, to breathe. We'll resume spinning later.
We put on Hustle & Flow. Jake took a bottle of Stolichnaya from the freezer and poured a small glass for himself and poured me a glass of ginger ale. Then he brought out two warmed up slices of cake and we settled in to watch the movie.
In our unwinding mood we kept turning the movie up louder and louder so I could hear what the characters were saying. It got very funny because at first Jacob would repeat everything for me, and keep me up. Subtitled might have helped, even when I could hear it I couldn't understand a word. Then he started imitating the memphis accents and singing the hooks.
Then he poured stoli into my belly button and went through two more shots that way before I cut him off.
Anyone want to fill me in on the outcome of the movie? Because I was carried up to our new california king sized bed and positively OWNED for the rest of the night. Bridget dipped in Stoli is a delicacy, I have come to find out. Bring it. I may have been licked all over. I have no idea. I died of happiness sometime around 2:30 am. For a straight-up kind of guy he can be rather carnal but he takes his time. He makes sure I'm with him at all times. He doesn't go forward without me. I'm still working hard at not getting ahead of him.
Oh no worries though. We're still doing deplorably in the whole sex department but we keep trying because it's taking longer and longer to degenerate into frustrations and tears. I'll leave that for another entry on another day. Last night was mercifully absent of both.
And now I must go, to sit in the front row on the left and listen to Jake try to work his way through the service, slightly hungover with no sleep, happy as a clam, so excited to give the announcements this morning and mention his marriage and new family. So so happy.
I am so happy to be his wife. I couldn't get this feeling across to you if I even tried.
Spinning to resume after lunch.
Ciao.
It might not be me. Or it might be. In this entry, it isn't me.
Last night around 11 we collapsed on the couch. With sustenance. So tired. So starving. So damn worn out. We hung on to the living room just to stop the spinning for a few moments, to breathe. We'll resume spinning later.
We put on Hustle & Flow. Jake took a bottle of Stolichnaya from the freezer and poured a small glass for himself and poured me a glass of ginger ale. Then he brought out two warmed up slices of cake and we settled in to watch the movie.
In our unwinding mood we kept turning the movie up louder and louder so I could hear what the characters were saying. It got very funny because at first Jacob would repeat everything for me, and keep me up. Subtitled might have helped, even when I could hear it I couldn't understand a word. Then he started imitating the memphis accents and singing the hooks.
Then he poured stoli into my belly button and went through two more shots that way before I cut him off.
Anyone want to fill me in on the outcome of the movie? Because I was carried up to our new california king sized bed and positively OWNED for the rest of the night. Bridget dipped in Stoli is a delicacy, I have come to find out. Bring it. I may have been licked all over. I have no idea. I died of happiness sometime around 2:30 am. For a straight-up kind of guy he can be rather carnal but he takes his time. He makes sure I'm with him at all times. He doesn't go forward without me. I'm still working hard at not getting ahead of him.
Oh no worries though. We're still doing deplorably in the whole sex department but we keep trying because it's taking longer and longer to degenerate into frustrations and tears. I'll leave that for another entry on another day. Last night was mercifully absent of both.
And now I must go, to sit in the front row on the left and listen to Jake try to work his way through the service, slightly hungover with no sleep, happy as a clam, so excited to give the announcements this morning and mention his marriage and new family. So so happy.
I am so happy to be his wife. I couldn't get this feeling across to you if I even tried.
Spinning to resume after lunch.
Ciao.
Saturday 5 August 2006
Practicing signatures.
Excuse me while I breeze through, home only to change and go back out. It's a very special day today. Made completely silly by the raging thunderstorms this morning. We have been out running between the raindrops since 7:30. We didn't care. Not one bit.
I was gifted a new last name this morning.
And the cheesiest urges overcome me when I write it out. I want to put a heart where the dot for the 'i' should be. I used to lose grades for that when I was in school. Now I can do it if I feel like it. We had a great laugh too, my new initials are B.R.R. Brrrr! (my middle name is Rebekah, for those wondering. Thankfully this new name rolls and tumbles off the tongue just a tiny bit less awkwardly than my old name did, but not by much.)
I had a brief panic attack at 5 am when I woke up and realized the kids...have Cole's last name. Which they will keep at least until Jacob formally adopts them, but even then, do we want to change it? Should we change it? They're too young to decide for themselves. The decisions just never end. But I'm not going to worry about it yet, we'll cross that bridge after we build it.
Our very short, simple ceremony was beautiful. This time however, the words are private, just for us. We asked our neighbors to witness. I was surprised again when Jake produced matching wedding bands. My god, I don't know where he gets the time for these things.
And to the naysayers and frowners raining on this parade: life is short. I didn't fall out of love with Cole overnight and I certainly didn't rush into anything with Jake. There is no purpose in waiting for appearances' sake. Sometimes you wait and wait and wait and then you realize you just don't have to wait anymore. So we didn't. Jealousy and disdain pours forth from the collective cold-hearted ones who aren't open to taking a chance, and I can't help them with that. I took it and it was the best decision I've ever made. Even after all that has happened since.
I wouldn't change it for the world.
PS. My wedding band fits inside Jacob's band, which I found out when we put our rings up to wash dishes. If that isn't symbolic I don't know what is.
PSS. For my wet blanket readers: Jacob's divorce was final on July 3. I believe I mentioned it in an entry here. He filed in February in anticipation of the end of May, when he could claim the full one year separation from his now ex-wife, who has always lived in Montreal. Then we had to wait 31 days for it to become final. Don't worry, it's all legal. When we went to get the marriage licence on Thursday afternoon we wound up having to come home and get his certificate of divorce and Cole's death certificate as well. Wet blanket indeed.
I was gifted a new last name this morning.
And the cheesiest urges overcome me when I write it out. I want to put a heart where the dot for the 'i' should be. I used to lose grades for that when I was in school. Now I can do it if I feel like it. We had a great laugh too, my new initials are B.R.R. Brrrr! (my middle name is Rebekah, for those wondering. Thankfully this new name rolls and tumbles off the tongue just a tiny bit less awkwardly than my old name did, but not by much.)
I had a brief panic attack at 5 am when I woke up and realized the kids...have Cole's last name. Which they will keep at least until Jacob formally adopts them, but even then, do we want to change it? Should we change it? They're too young to decide for themselves. The decisions just never end. But I'm not going to worry about it yet, we'll cross that bridge after we build it.
Our very short, simple ceremony was beautiful. This time however, the words are private, just for us. We asked our neighbors to witness. I was surprised again when Jake produced matching wedding bands. My god, I don't know where he gets the time for these things.
And to the naysayers and frowners raining on this parade: life is short. I didn't fall out of love with Cole overnight and I certainly didn't rush into anything with Jake. There is no purpose in waiting for appearances' sake. Sometimes you wait and wait and wait and then you realize you just don't have to wait anymore. So we didn't. Jealousy and disdain pours forth from the collective cold-hearted ones who aren't open to taking a chance, and I can't help them with that. I took it and it was the best decision I've ever made. Even after all that has happened since.
I wouldn't change it for the world.
PS. My wedding band fits inside Jacob's band, which I found out when we put our rings up to wash dishes. If that isn't symbolic I don't know what is.
PSS. For my wet blanket readers: Jacob's divorce was final on July 3. I believe I mentioned it in an entry here. He filed in February in anticipation of the end of May, when he could claim the full one year separation from his now ex-wife, who has always lived in Montreal. Then we had to wait 31 days for it to become final. Don't worry, it's all legal. When we went to get the marriage licence on Thursday afternoon we wound up having to come home and get his certificate of divorce and Cole's death certificate as well. Wet blanket indeed.
Thursday 3 August 2006
Never ever ever coming back down from this day.
This morning I had a huge surprise. Up at 4:30. In the morning. I thought we were going back up to the cottage. Jacob told me to get dressed in something warmish and very casual. PJ had arrived and was downstairs making coffee, compensated heavily to babysit this early.
Huh?
Jake filled a thermos with coffee and off we went. He had lost his mind.
Where are we going?
Apparently it was to be a secret. Pffffut. We drove out of the city and past farms and fields, now gold with late summer sunflowers, barley and canola. Down a dirt road. I'm thinking breakfast picnic but we didn't bring food. We drove out into this field and I saw it. The sun wasn't even up yet.
Ohmyfuckinggodthatsahotairballoon.
A.
Hot.
Air.
Balloon.
I squealed out loud. Like a baby pig. Jacob laughed.
Shit. Scariness. I'm terrified of heights but this is too exciting to be afraid. Besides, Jake's right there. We're going up! Ohmygodohmygod. The sun was just starting to peek above the horizon when we finally climbed into the gondola after the safety briefing and then up we went. So beautiful I barely had words. Jacob held my hands. I was shaking like a leaf but so excited at the same time to be so high up in the sky. Then as we crossed the most amazing field of sunflowers I didn't even know existed, Jacob turned to me and got that look. I call it his shut-the-hell-up-I'm-about-to-be-very-serious look. The balloon operator nodded and told Jacob that we were at a thousand feet if he was ready. Jacob started to speak and then stopped and chuckled and told me he couldn't get down on one knee because there wasn't enough room.
...couldn't..get...down on one...? Oh my God oh my God.
Oh.
my.
God.
He took me into his arms and held me so tight. He put his head down and kissed my ear and then spoke. He asked me if I would marry him. Loud and clear into my ear. I didn't expect this day. And never in a million years did I think a human being was capable of conquering this degree of romance. He put a ring on my finger. Which I didn't really stop to look at because I was too busy smiling at him, tears rolling. Thankfully none of my ugly crying. He was blushing, so flustered, a mess of nerves. Uncharacteristic nerves, he never needs those with me. I wondered briefly if he thought I might turn him down. No, that would never happen. It was simply the day he has always waited for, and now it was here. At last.
I will marry you, Jake. A million times over.
I didn't have to even say it out loud but I did. Great, now we're both crying. I give up, we're emotional people.
I really have no idea what the rest of our flight was like. When the balloon landed and they helped us out of the basket there was champagne for a toast. Congratulations were extended. If only they knew what we had been through to make it to this moment.
On the way home in the car Jacob asked me if I had a day in mind for our wedding. I said not really. Then I started throwing out ideas. Halloween? Christmas? Next Spring? Something very small, just for us. He asked what I thought of Saturday.
This Saturday you mean?
I really don't want to wait anymore, Bridge.
oh my God. Yes.
One thing.
I don't think I can take one more thing, Jacob.
Names.
Names?
Will you take my last name, Bridget?
I'd like nothing better than to take your name, Jacob.
(he got all teary-eyed then, and that made for my infamous full-on ugly crying. Oh, hell.)
Do you have any idea how happy you make me?
I think I do, Jacob.
No, Bridge. No you don't. You really have no idea.
It was after he said that that I went to check my bag to see if I had a tissue when finally I remembered to look at the ring.
A pearl.
A pearl ring, simple, beyond the most beautiful thing I have ever seen before. A perfect fit even. He has an aptitude for this sort of thing and I never knew.
I never knew I could have this kind of happiness. I have no words for this.
Do you like it?
I love it. I'm completely overwhelmed. It's perfect. It's me.
I couldn't give my saltwater princess anything except a pearl. I found you by the ocean and the ocean keeps going, Bridge. She's strong and fierce and beautiful and she never stops. Just like you.
*****************************************************************
(I almost lost this post, deleting it by mistake. So I'll tack it on here so everything stays chronological).
12.5 hours
Much of this day was spent enveloped in making plans. Talking, phoning, trying to figure out how to pull off a wedding when I was given all of 48 hours notice (not that I'm complaining). Early on it became insurmountable. Who is invited? Do we throw a small party afterwards? Go out for a group dinner? What will we wear? Dressed to the nines or casual because we're casual people and it's our bliss? What about the families? Friends? Heck, what about the kids? What about those around us who don't approve, saying it's too much too soon and we should wait a little longer. We were forced to give up completely by this afternoon. It just wasn't falling into place at all.
Oh but we're still getting married tomorrow morning. Just me and Jacob and a minister that he knows from the united church nearby to officiate. And that's it. I have an ivory vintage swing dress that works. He has his good linen suit, and we don't need a big party or matching flowers or a bunch of people around.
Nope, we just need what we already have. Each other.
Works for me.
I did get cake though. Bridget always needs cake. Chocolate cake.
Wish me luck. No, don't wish me luck, I already have it. Wish me well instead.
Huh?
Jake filled a thermos with coffee and off we went. He had lost his mind.
Where are we going?
Apparently it was to be a secret. Pffffut. We drove out of the city and past farms and fields, now gold with late summer sunflowers, barley and canola. Down a dirt road. I'm thinking breakfast picnic but we didn't bring food. We drove out into this field and I saw it. The sun wasn't even up yet.
Ohmyfuckinggodthatsahotairballoon.
A.
Hot.
Air.
Balloon.
I squealed out loud. Like a baby pig. Jacob laughed.
Shit. Scariness. I'm terrified of heights but this is too exciting to be afraid. Besides, Jake's right there. We're going up! Ohmygodohmygod. The sun was just starting to peek above the horizon when we finally climbed into the gondola after the safety briefing and then up we went. So beautiful I barely had words. Jacob held my hands. I was shaking like a leaf but so excited at the same time to be so high up in the sky. Then as we crossed the most amazing field of sunflowers I didn't even know existed, Jacob turned to me and got that look. I call it his shut-the-hell-up-I'm-about-to-be-very-serious look. The balloon operator nodded and told Jacob that we were at a thousand feet if he was ready. Jacob started to speak and then stopped and chuckled and told me he couldn't get down on one knee because there wasn't enough room.
...couldn't..get...down on one...? Oh my God oh my God.
Oh.
my.
God.
He took me into his arms and held me so tight. He put his head down and kissed my ear and then spoke. He asked me if I would marry him. Loud and clear into my ear. I didn't expect this day. And never in a million years did I think a human being was capable of conquering this degree of romance. He put a ring on my finger. Which I didn't really stop to look at because I was too busy smiling at him, tears rolling. Thankfully none of my ugly crying. He was blushing, so flustered, a mess of nerves. Uncharacteristic nerves, he never needs those with me. I wondered briefly if he thought I might turn him down. No, that would never happen. It was simply the day he has always waited for, and now it was here. At last.
I will marry you, Jake. A million times over.
I didn't have to even say it out loud but I did. Great, now we're both crying. I give up, we're emotional people.
I really have no idea what the rest of our flight was like. When the balloon landed and they helped us out of the basket there was champagne for a toast. Congratulations were extended. If only they knew what we had been through to make it to this moment.
On the way home in the car Jacob asked me if I had a day in mind for our wedding. I said not really. Then I started throwing out ideas. Halloween? Christmas? Next Spring? Something very small, just for us. He asked what I thought of Saturday.
This Saturday you mean?
I really don't want to wait anymore, Bridge.
oh my God. Yes.
One thing.
I don't think I can take one more thing, Jacob.
Names.
Names?
Will you take my last name, Bridget?
I'd like nothing better than to take your name, Jacob.
(he got all teary-eyed then, and that made for my infamous full-on ugly crying. Oh, hell.)
Do you have any idea how happy you make me?
I think I do, Jacob.
No, Bridge. No you don't. You really have no idea.
It was after he said that that I went to check my bag to see if I had a tissue when finally I remembered to look at the ring.
A pearl.
A pearl ring, simple, beyond the most beautiful thing I have ever seen before. A perfect fit even. He has an aptitude for this sort of thing and I never knew.
I never knew I could have this kind of happiness. I have no words for this.
Do you like it?
I love it. I'm completely overwhelmed. It's perfect. It's me.
I couldn't give my saltwater princess anything except a pearl. I found you by the ocean and the ocean keeps going, Bridge. She's strong and fierce and beautiful and she never stops. Just like you.
*****************************************************************
(I almost lost this post, deleting it by mistake. So I'll tack it on here so everything stays chronological).
12.5 hours
Much of this day was spent enveloped in making plans. Talking, phoning, trying to figure out how to pull off a wedding when I was given all of 48 hours notice (not that I'm complaining). Early on it became insurmountable. Who is invited? Do we throw a small party afterwards? Go out for a group dinner? What will we wear? Dressed to the nines or casual because we're casual people and it's our bliss? What about the families? Friends? Heck, what about the kids? What about those around us who don't approve, saying it's too much too soon and we should wait a little longer. We were forced to give up completely by this afternoon. It just wasn't falling into place at all.
Oh but we're still getting married tomorrow morning. Just me and Jacob and a minister that he knows from the united church nearby to officiate. And that's it. I have an ivory vintage swing dress that works. He has his good linen suit, and we don't need a big party or matching flowers or a bunch of people around.
Nope, we just need what we already have. Each other.
Works for me.
I did get cake though. Bridget always needs cake. Chocolate cake.
Wish me luck. No, don't wish me luck, I already have it. Wish me well instead.
Wednesday 2 August 2006
A secret.
For those who are concerned, I have catharsis. Catharsis in the form of running. Hard running. With my MP3 player on full blast and my sunglasses on I can run for an hour and cry and bleed on the inside and no one has to feel bad or deal with it or worry about it. I get out, get some sun, fresh air, exercise and I don't have to worry about being on the treadmill at home with Jacob hovering. I couldn't bottle it up if I tried but you know something? He's done more than his fair share of comforting and he needs a happy Bridge now.
Precious few.
This morning I am gifted with Blind Melon karaoke. Which is great but Jacob's voice sounds more like Jason Wade than the late great Shannon Hoon when he sings so it comes out like Lifehouse cover songs. Hilarious. I never thought I'd love Lifehouse so much until Jacob started walking around this house singing songs from their third album so movingly all day long. He floors me. Can't you tell?
Esoteric Bridge reigns supreme today. Just maybe. Or maybe it's the sugar. We have fresh jars of honey. I love summer. I'm totally high. It's bittersweet.
Or maybe it's the introspection.
A little non-news. No, Ben is so not back in my life. Too soon. I sometimes forget he reads here. In which case I wind up dancing with censoring of my words and it won't flow. Jacob doesn't want to hear from Ben. I miss him but not enough to forget. Not yet, I'm sorry. And no Jake isn't deciding this for us. I am.
Jacob is so preoccupied anyway lately but I'm not complaining. I think the heat has gotten to him. I keep catching him smiling hugely at me and when I ask him what's so funny he says it's nothing, instead of telling me what he's thinking. He keeps telling me he just needs sleep and a bit of a lighter workload. He's got so much going on now it's hard to keep up with him. I miss him and he's down the hall half the time. He took on two more appointments each week, couples who asked him to do some counseling. Marriage counseling. It's so ironic I can't wrap my brain around it half the time. He's good at it though. Really good at it. I asked him how he got so good at it and he said he has a guide. I asked him if it was God or love that guides him. He said there might be less of a difference than I think. I said I think it's too early for this conversation.
He is proud of me though. I asked him if he would just take the bottle of antidepressants and dispense them and play pharmacist and he was honored to be the keeper of the drugs. He said I can tell everyone that HE gets me high and it's legal.
Because he wrote off another friend after reading back through the comments here one night, noticing I wrote that Mark had offered to give me something after Cole died to keep me from feeling it and Jake sort of very quietly and measurably hit the fucking roof. Turns out the once-strong group is the most secretive, dysfunctional bunch ever. It fell apart. All of it. Exposed to the harsh light of reality the expectations were shattered and we're left rather brittle as individuals. The bonds of friendship have been sorely tested this summer and they haven't held in some places and it's just been more to deal with.
I don't think a lot of my friends actually believed I would really wind up with Jake. They saw it but they refused to believe what was going on because I think deep down they all thought nothing would ever change. Since most of them put their heads in the sand as it was. I'm still amazed, looking back on things they saw and so few of them stood up to Cole out of their own fears or flaws. I don't even know anymore but it makes me sad. And now when they are faced with everything that went wrong under these bright lights, standing in front of me and telling me they are sorry he died and they're lying, well, it's worse.
But only for Bridget.
Hey. It happens, right?. Maybe it's for the better. I get to see everyone's true colors and moral compasses for the first time all in a very short time span and what's amazing is how spellbound they all were. By me. And how much they enjoyed the fucked up uninhibited Bridget and had little use for the hurting one, or the one who just wants to be happy with no bull. Like there was some kind of difference. And my standards were high. Which really makes me wonder if I ever had any real friends in the first place. And precious few volunteers for replacements. No volunteers, truthfully.
We walk in your footsteps
Though I've had my ups and downs
And I'll stand in the silence
Until I figure it out
One might fall and the other will stand
And one might give where the other won't bend
The night is bright as the sun
I'm never gonna know
Never gonna look back
Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
The end has only begun
So stop counting the hours
Live out in the world
Cause I've been chasing the answers
And they don't want to be found
One might fall and the other will stand
And one might give where the other won't bend
The night is as bright as the sun
I'm never gonna know
Never gonna look back
Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
The end has only begun
Well the day
Tonight feels like a million miles away
And these times just won't change
Life just stays the same
I'd give anything to see the light of day
Cause I've been too far away
To hear you whispering
They say one might fall and the other will stand
And one might give where the other won't bend
The night is as bright as the sun
I'm never gonna know
Never gonna look back
Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
The end has only begun
Well the day
Tonight feels like a million miles away
And these times just won't change
Life just stays the same
I'd give anything to see the light of day
What you do
No one can decide it's up to you
And who you are is what you choose
These times when the world falls apart
Make us who we are
(The song Jacob sings the most often, now one of my favorites.)
Esoteric Bridge reigns supreme today. Just maybe. Or maybe it's the sugar. We have fresh jars of honey. I love summer. I'm totally high. It's bittersweet.
Or maybe it's the introspection.
A little non-news. No, Ben is so not back in my life. Too soon. I sometimes forget he reads here. In which case I wind up dancing with censoring of my words and it won't flow. Jacob doesn't want to hear from Ben. I miss him but not enough to forget. Not yet, I'm sorry. And no Jake isn't deciding this for us. I am.
Jacob is so preoccupied anyway lately but I'm not complaining. I think the heat has gotten to him. I keep catching him smiling hugely at me and when I ask him what's so funny he says it's nothing, instead of telling me what he's thinking. He keeps telling me he just needs sleep and a bit of a lighter workload. He's got so much going on now it's hard to keep up with him. I miss him and he's down the hall half the time. He took on two more appointments each week, couples who asked him to do some counseling. Marriage counseling. It's so ironic I can't wrap my brain around it half the time. He's good at it though. Really good at it. I asked him how he got so good at it and he said he has a guide. I asked him if it was God or love that guides him. He said there might be less of a difference than I think. I said I think it's too early for this conversation.
He is proud of me though. I asked him if he would just take the bottle of antidepressants and dispense them and play pharmacist and he was honored to be the keeper of the drugs. He said I can tell everyone that HE gets me high and it's legal.
Because he wrote off another friend after reading back through the comments here one night, noticing I wrote that Mark had offered to give me something after Cole died to keep me from feeling it and Jake sort of very quietly and measurably hit the fucking roof. Turns out the once-strong group is the most secretive, dysfunctional bunch ever. It fell apart. All of it. Exposed to the harsh light of reality the expectations were shattered and we're left rather brittle as individuals. The bonds of friendship have been sorely tested this summer and they haven't held in some places and it's just been more to deal with.
I don't think a lot of my friends actually believed I would really wind up with Jake. They saw it but they refused to believe what was going on because I think deep down they all thought nothing would ever change. Since most of them put their heads in the sand as it was. I'm still amazed, looking back on things they saw and so few of them stood up to Cole out of their own fears or flaws. I don't even know anymore but it makes me sad. And now when they are faced with everything that went wrong under these bright lights, standing in front of me and telling me they are sorry he died and they're lying, well, it's worse.
But only for Bridget.
Hey. It happens, right?. Maybe it's for the better. I get to see everyone's true colors and moral compasses for the first time all in a very short time span and what's amazing is how spellbound they all were. By me. And how much they enjoyed the fucked up uninhibited Bridget and had little use for the hurting one, or the one who just wants to be happy with no bull. Like there was some kind of difference. And my standards were high. Which really makes me wonder if I ever had any real friends in the first place. And precious few volunteers for replacements. No volunteers, truthfully.
We walk in your footsteps
Though I've had my ups and downs
And I'll stand in the silence
Until I figure it out
One might fall and the other will stand
And one might give where the other won't bend
The night is bright as the sun
I'm never gonna know
Never gonna look back
Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
The end has only begun
So stop counting the hours
Live out in the world
Cause I've been chasing the answers
And they don't want to be found
One might fall and the other will stand
And one might give where the other won't bend
The night is as bright as the sun
I'm never gonna know
Never gonna look back
Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
The end has only begun
Well the day
Tonight feels like a million miles away
And these times just won't change
Life just stays the same
I'd give anything to see the light of day
Cause I've been too far away
To hear you whispering
They say one might fall and the other will stand
And one might give where the other won't bend
The night is as bright as the sun
I'm never gonna know
Never gonna look back
Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
The end has only begun
Well the day
Tonight feels like a million miles away
And these times just won't change
Life just stays the same
I'd give anything to see the light of day
What you do
No one can decide it's up to you
And who you are is what you choose
These times when the world falls apart
Make us who we are
(The song Jacob sings the most often, now one of my favorites.)
Tuesday 1 August 2006
Pillowtalk therapy.
Sometimes late at night we have the best conversations. Jacob is obsessed with the points of trust and finds it hard to grasp how hard I struggle with it. I've always taken my fears and worn them on the inside. If I'm prettier, thinner, more fun I won't be alone. If I get better and don't have to deal with any remaining unrealistic psychological issues from my beating, from Cole's death, Jacob will be happy and he'll stay, in my head. If we could find normalcy he'll stay. If I can do everything in my power to make him happy he'll stay.
He shoves back. He doesn't want a doormat, a trophy. He wants a strong, happy, healthy girlfriend. No, he wants a strong, happy, healthy, relaxed girlfriend who has gained a few more pounds because he said sometimes I hurt. He makes jokes about my serrated hip bones. He doesn't understand how I could worry that he's going to give up since he's still here after everything that has happened. How he's been here mostly since I met him. How he struggled to find a balance between living his own life and living it for me or for hope so he continued his travels and eventually got married. It makes perfect sense. How he has all the confidence in the world that I am doing well and mostly myself again. Because I have the right kind of support and love around me. Not just from him though. He insists he only helps and I am doing it. Humble to a fault. I'm sure he has saved my life many times over at this point.
We talked about my hard work, my continued progress without being reduced to being a child in our relationship. And we talked about our promises to each other to continue to fight for this, and for each other every single day of our lives because we have earned it. And we want it still, almost more than before we were together. It's profound now but no longer fucked up. I don't feel like I'm out of control. I don't feel like I'm alone. I feel like I'm settling in and I like where we're going. It looks happy and content and permanent and magical.
He's a good man. A very good man. He's so loving and just solid. And not prone to fly off into rages and mood swings and violence. He's gentle, thoughtful and real. Real in a way I never thought I would ever deserve, let alone experience.
Whatever doubts I had left are slipping away. I'm happy to see this. This is very good.
He shoves back. He doesn't want a doormat, a trophy. He wants a strong, happy, healthy girlfriend. No, he wants a strong, happy, healthy, relaxed girlfriend who has gained a few more pounds because he said sometimes I hurt. He makes jokes about my serrated hip bones. He doesn't understand how I could worry that he's going to give up since he's still here after everything that has happened. How he's been here mostly since I met him. How he struggled to find a balance between living his own life and living it for me or for hope so he continued his travels and eventually got married. It makes perfect sense. How he has all the confidence in the world that I am doing well and mostly myself again. Because I have the right kind of support and love around me. Not just from him though. He insists he only helps and I am doing it. Humble to a fault. I'm sure he has saved my life many times over at this point.
We talked about my hard work, my continued progress without being reduced to being a child in our relationship. And we talked about our promises to each other to continue to fight for this, and for each other every single day of our lives because we have earned it. And we want it still, almost more than before we were together. It's profound now but no longer fucked up. I don't feel like I'm out of control. I don't feel like I'm alone. I feel like I'm settling in and I like where we're going. It looks happy and content and permanent and magical.
He's a good man. A very good man. He's so loving and just solid. And not prone to fly off into rages and mood swings and violence. He's gentle, thoughtful and real. Real in a way I never thought I would ever deserve, let alone experience.
Whatever doubts I had left are slipping away. I'm happy to see this. This is very good.
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