I remember her walking up to me in church and introducing herself. It is hard to say what preempted her wanting to meet me, but probably some stagy-shinanigans. She mentioned that she had seen my name in the church bulletin, and recognized it as someone from her past. When she walked up to me, I knew who she was, because my mom had sent me a newspaper clipping regarding her story: "Executive Returns to Her Roots to Make Kolaches". I won't say that this is what brought me back to Pennsylvania from NYC and Japan, but it was not long after that I did just that.
"You're Hugh Harper. I'm..."
"I know who you are."
I was not interested in this beautiful woman. No, I had experienced quite enough. I wanted to ride my motorcycle into the sunset alone. I remember praying about it.
Be warned though folks; when you say things in a prayer like, "Thy will be done." It will be.
So, the next day, I look up her shop in Beaver - this Cafe Kolache place.
"Sounds girly"
I called her and asked her if we could talk.
And the next day, I stopped down on my motorcycle. We sat for two hours and talked and laughed.
We courted. I trained her to hike Pike's Peak. Brady's Run has our Kissing Rock, and everytime - even today when we hike up there, we stop for a nice long smooch.
Oh yeah... We got married.
About, 5 months after we started, I knew. I glanced over to her while driving at night and she was fast asleep in the car - her mouth was wide open. It was a sight. I wanted her right then. And I had a little ring in my glove box waiting.
Thy will be done indeed.
It is funny how plans are made and changed. Sometimes they change in the blink of an eye, and others, like a glacier altering the landscape - a long-long time. And I look back on my single life - that torturous past, those in some cases, heinous relationships, and then I take but only a glance at life now, even under the constant strains of the financial burdens of the business, the obligations, the mood-swings and the crazy three year-old, and those moments that can crush a man, as he would crush an empty beer can and I will never ever want to take back any of that so called freedom of the single life again.
I remember early into our marriage, our family doctor telling us that I was going to need an aortic valve replaced. She had the fattest tears in her eyes, and I could tell what she was thinking: "Great. Defective husband."
I remember well, our attempts at having a baby. All those appointments, and then her etopic pregnancy, and while waiting to hear that she was out of the operation, hearing my name get paged and the doctor telling me that it was a "real mess in there". I thought I was going to die, when I thought that she might.
I remember those stars up around Oil City. We walked outside with her eyes closed, and then she opened them to a blanket of stars.
I remember how ill-prepared we were for Abby. My first migraine. The absolute joy!
And now, we enter our sixth year of marriage. The house, the finances, the cafe, our daughter, the dog, our folks, the world spinning on its axis.
I remember being asked what it was like working with my wife. I said that it was a "scenario ripe for comedy", and while it may be true, we work well together, and we both go through good and bad times as we muddle our way through the business - and life. I won't have it any other way.
I come up behind her, and give her a squeeze, and life, as always, in the way.
"Ahem, a little romance."
Okay. Abby screams out something in the background. The cafe calls. The dog is itching her butt on the carpet. The buzzer from the dryer goes off. The fire alarm explodes. Time is not complying with our demands. I am in my smelly t-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. She has not washed her hair in two days, and has "no sleep" wrinkles under her eyes.
And she wants romance?
It'll take some figuring, but I think I can do that.
"Kristi, I love you more now than I did then."
Your Husband.
"You're Hugh Harper. I'm..."
"I know who you are."
I was not interested in this beautiful woman. No, I had experienced quite enough. I wanted to ride my motorcycle into the sunset alone. I remember praying about it.
Be warned though folks; when you say things in a prayer like, "Thy will be done." It will be.
So, the next day, I look up her shop in Beaver - this Cafe Kolache place.
"Sounds girly"
I called her and asked her if we could talk.
And the next day, I stopped down on my motorcycle. We sat for two hours and talked and laughed.
We courted. I trained her to hike Pike's Peak. Brady's Run has our Kissing Rock, and everytime - even today when we hike up there, we stop for a nice long smooch.
Oh yeah... We got married.
About, 5 months after we started, I knew. I glanced over to her while driving at night and she was fast asleep in the car - her mouth was wide open. It was a sight. I wanted her right then. And I had a little ring in my glove box waiting.
Thy will be done indeed.
It is funny how plans are made and changed. Sometimes they change in the blink of an eye, and others, like a glacier altering the landscape - a long-long time. And I look back on my single life - that torturous past, those in some cases, heinous relationships, and then I take but only a glance at life now, even under the constant strains of the financial burdens of the business, the obligations, the mood-swings and the crazy three year-old, and those moments that can crush a man, as he would crush an empty beer can and I will never ever want to take back any of that so called freedom of the single life again.
I remember early into our marriage, our family doctor telling us that I was going to need an aortic valve replaced. She had the fattest tears in her eyes, and I could tell what she was thinking: "Great. Defective husband."
I remember well, our attempts at having a baby. All those appointments, and then her etopic pregnancy, and while waiting to hear that she was out of the operation, hearing my name get paged and the doctor telling me that it was a "real mess in there". I thought I was going to die, when I thought that she might.
I remember those stars up around Oil City. We walked outside with her eyes closed, and then she opened them to a blanket of stars.
I remember how ill-prepared we were for Abby. My first migraine. The absolute joy!
And now, we enter our sixth year of marriage. The house, the finances, the cafe, our daughter, the dog, our folks, the world spinning on its axis.
I remember being asked what it was like working with my wife. I said that it was a "scenario ripe for comedy", and while it may be true, we work well together, and we both go through good and bad times as we muddle our way through the business - and life. I won't have it any other way.
I come up behind her, and give her a squeeze, and life, as always, in the way.
"Ahem, a little romance."
Okay. Abby screams out something in the background. The cafe calls. The dog is itching her butt on the carpet. The buzzer from the dryer goes off. The fire alarm explodes. Time is not complying with our demands. I am in my smelly t-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. She has not washed her hair in two days, and has "no sleep" wrinkles under her eyes.
And she wants romance?
It'll take some figuring, but I think I can do that.
"Kristi, I love you more now than I did then."
 |
| At La Casa d'Narcissi Winery some time last year - by motorcycle! |
I absolutely love this.
ReplyDeleteI'm so teary. Literally. This is lovely.
ReplyDelete