The Whirlwind Romance

Our kids laugh at us because we text each other so often. We have since we started dating.  Before little Laura  realized Craig and I were "girlfriend and boyfriend", when she still thought I was her personal playmate and just another one of the women in their life who was helping out, she teased him about texting me.  "Who are you texting Daddy, Juuuuulieeee?"

His teenage daughter Alyssa rolls her eyes and says "Teenagers are supposed to text, Dad, not old people!"  Those young whipper snappers always think every new fangled contraption was invented for them.

My daughters, Sara and Stephanie, used to complain that I got more texts than they did -- and I had a silly smile on my face when I texted him.  "Are you sexting Mom?" they would ask, in mock disgust.  Ok, maybe it was real disgust.

Even now we text each other several times during the workday and sometimes when we're sitting in the same room together.  I guess it's our way of "whispering sweet nothings" in the only way we can with an 8 year old, teenager, and at least one young adult in the house with us at any given time.

From the beginning Craig saved my texts to reread when we were too busy with our separate lives to spend time together, as he sat on the porch gazing at the stars. He came by his romantic tendencies honestly -- his father recently showed me the letters his young girlfriend, Craig's mother, wrote to him when he was away in the Navy, almost 60 years ago. 

Craig is always telling me I should write the story of how we fell in love, or what I call our "whirlwind romance", and that story would have to include texting because that's how busy people have to communicate...even us old people.

I call our romance a whirlwind romance not only because we dated for such a short time before getting married, but also because it involved a real whirlwind. Craig humors me and says the whirlwind must have been a sign of some sort; I believe that it was, of course. Here is an "excerpt" from our romantic story -- maybe part of a book I want to write someday.

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He texted me to ask what I was doing. "Making banana bread", I texted back as I smiled because he was thinking of me. 

"I love banana bread!" he responded.

"I'll save some for you", I quickly typed with my thumbs as I tried to remember how different dating was before cell phones and texting. Things had changed in the 30 years since I had last dated.

"How about bringing me some? I'm out at the park cleaning up the softball diamond, getting things ready for the season. I'm hungry and I could use a break," he texted back a few minutes later, with full punctuation and caps, as I was learning was his habit. 

I smiled again because he wanted to see me. We had been dating for only a few weeks and he always seemed eager to hear from me or to make plans to see me, whether for just a few minutes or several hours. Often in the evenings he texted to say he was doing the dreaded laundry or dishes, he was waiting to to pick up his oldest daughter at softball practice, or he had just tucked his little girl into bed.  He texted me to ask how my day was going or if I was enjoying the sunshine at lunch. We shared details of our work days, our evening meals, and our errands, in between our few planned dates.  It was so nice to hear that "beep" during the day, or just as I lay down at night, which let me know someone special had me on his mind.

I pulled into the park and saw his SUV under a tree on the other side of the parking lot, but since I couldn't tell if there were other open spaces near it, I parked in the first available parking space. Near the path leading to the diamond I saw him watching for me and he smiled and waved as he recognized me. I got out of my car with my foil packet of banana bread -- just one piece so he would have to come over to my house if he wanted more. I was a little bit self conscious as I walked toward him but when I saw the pleasure on his face I felt more relaxed. The park around me blurred and sounds of the kids playing muffled; all there was for me at that moment was that smiling man walking toward me with sunshine on his face and cool breeze blowing his hair.   

I think he touched my arm and kissed my cheek as we met, but I don't remember for sure. We walked close together, our arms touching, toward his SUV that was parked in a small island of grass in the circle drive. He opened the driver's side door and put the banana bread inside, and then hesitated before motioning into the vehicle with a nod of his head and a lift of his eyebrow.

I replied, "This is fine, it's nice out here", as I leaned against the fender. He shut the car door then moved close to me, touching my hand and wrapping one finger around my little finger as he leaned next to me. He turned his head, grinned and stared at me but didn't say anything, so I said "What?", but he simply replied with a "What?" of his own, then turned his body toward me, still leaning on the car. 

Not knowing what to say, I mentioned the weather, of course.  "It sure feels like spring. The sun is warm but the air is still cool." He agreed, as we looked around us at the island of grass that was beginning to waken and turn green after the long winter.

"I'm so glad the winter is over", he said, still staring at me.

We stood talking, and now holding hands not just fingers, as people both of us knew, or one of us knew, walked around their cars to load up their cleaning supplies, lawn-care equipment, and softball bats. When they saw us standing there together, holding hands, their faces registered a look of surprise, then confusion, then a huge eye-twinkling smile.  Very few people in town knew we were dating, and many had no idea I had been divorced for 6 months (alone much longer), but most had been "looking out" for him and his family since his wife passed away a year and a half earlier. I'm sure some who saw us, especially those who don't know what it is like to be alone for so long, or who don't understand loss like we do, thought it was a little soon for either of us to be dating.

"People can see us, you know," I said as he leaned closer to me.

"I don't care", he replied, still looking into my eyes, with a quick glance to my mouth. "I'm proud to show off my beautiful girlfriend. And to be fair I did try to get you into my car, you know, hoping I might get a kiss."

"Oh, so I'm officially your girlfriend? I feel a little old to be called girlfriend."

He smiled and said softly, "If you want to be my girlfriend."  

"Hmmm, I'll have to think about that...oh, look at that!" I changed the subject as I pointed around him to the left of us, to a pile of dried, decaying leaves that had lifted a few inches off the ground to slowly blow round and round in a circle. "It's a little whirlwind".

He looked at where I was pointing and the two of us quietly watched as more leaves, twigs, dust and dirt joined the small whirlwind as it picked up speed and circled in front of us, following the curve of the gravel drive. We watched in awe as it completed the semi-circle, twirling round and round, and lifted off the ground to the right of us, then blew off with a gust into the sky.

We looked at each other with our eyes wide and laughed. "Whoa", I said, "That was strange! Have you ever seen one like that? Usually they just blow for a few seconds then die off, but that one just kept going around us, like our own personal whirlwind. Think it meant something?"

"I think it means we're supposed to be together," he said as he pulled me close.

"Yes, I would like to be your girlfriend," I answered. 

Toilet Paper & Divorce

A single roll of toilet paper will forever represent my failed marriage.

We surprised each other and ourselves by how easily we divided our belongings and agreed on what he should take with him when he left the family to set up his new household. A few days before he moved, we went through the kitchen cabinets to divide our dishes, cookware, utensils and storage containers.  I pulled things out one by one and said things like, "Your aunt gave these snack plates to me as a wedding shower gift, but you should take them, since they were from your family and you are more likely to use them, being on your own, and all." Or, "You gave that cookware set to me for our 23rd anniversary, so I think I should keep it -- all the pieces -- since it was a gift", and he agreed. Or, "This is a box of extra pieces of silverware we received as a wedding gift.  We haven't used them much so you might as well have them, instead of buying new ones."  My eyes swelled with tears and my voice caught in my throat, as I handed the box to him.

And I told him he should take the big screen TV because he was the one who wanted to buy it so badly and he paid dearly for it. I also told him to take the living room sofa, chair and ottoman since he liked them so much (and slept on them so well) -- and he didn't mind they hadn't been cleaned in seven years.  I never thought they were very comfortable, and if one of us had to buy new ones I really didn't mind doing so (especially if he was going to help me pay for them).

Even on the day he moved, as he packed the moving truck and asked if he could take things, we discussed each item and made the decision together, calmly and adult like -- until I walked into the bathroom. When I saw the box filled with his toiletries, along with two rolls of toilet paper, I almost came unglued.  I looked in the cabinet where I stored the extra TP and saw -- GASP-- just two rolls left!  In the whole time we had been married, I don't think I had ever allowed us to get down to just two rolls of toilet paper.  

As he walked past me to get something else out of the closet I said in disbelief, "You are taking my toilet paper?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked at me with wide eyes -- married women know the look -- and replied meekly, "I don't have any at the new apartment”.

"You are going to live right across the street from a giant grocery store that sells thousands of rolls of toilet paper cheaper than I can buy it here in town, and you are going to take myyyyyy toilet paper?", I exclaimed with frustration in my voice and my hand on my hip (married men know the pose). "It's bad enough that you…“  I bit my tongue then continued, “you aren't going to inconvenience me like that!"

He replied, now rolling his eyes and shaking his head, "I just thought one roll would be okay."

"One roll?"  I gasped, now with both hands on my hips and my foot tapping. "There are two rolls in the box!  You said one roll, but there are two rolls, don't you see?", I said, then pointed to the box.

He looked at me in disbelief and said, "Okay, I'll take just one roll!  I can't believe you would argue with me over a roll of toilet paper! Okay, I'll take one roll!"

"Okay", I said, and quickly walked away, trying not to look at the other boxes he had packed.

A little while later I heard him tell our daughter and her boyfriend I argued with him about a roll of toilet paper, that it was just like me to argue over something stupid like that. Then he shut the door on the back of the moving truck, jumped into the driver‘s seat and adjusted the rear view mirror, although I noticed he didn‘t look into it as he drove off.

Later that day, a friend stopped by to see how I was doing and I calmly told her how the only thing we argued over was one roll of toilet paper.  We talked about it, we laughed and she comforted me.

The next morning, when I opened the back door to step out onto the deck, there was a gift bag sitting next to the door. I removed the card, opened it and read,

"I just wanted to give you a little "pick-me-up" as well as a little "security".  Keep it in a safe place so you'll never run out.  May it also be a reminder that you have MANY people who will be there for you in times of need.  It may be difficult, but all you have to do is pick up the phone and call!" It was signed by my dear friend.

Inside the bag was a double roll of toilet paper, one of the most meaningful gifts I've ever received.  The next time I see my friend I will have to tell her I have already used the toilet paper and I am not as worried about running out as I used to be.

Her Message

It had been a particularly stressful week, early in our marriage, and I couldn‘t sleep.  I was still trying to get used to living in a different home, with furniture, dishes, cookware, linens, books, and photographs that had belonged to another woman, a woman who was no longer living. I was still trying to get used to taking care of three kids that were not mine -- a 7 year old, a 16 year old and a 21 year old who had recently dropped out of school and had moved back home, while missing my own daughters who were away at college.  I was still trying to get used to living with my new husband, a man I had known for only a year -- different habits, different temperament, different tastes in food, different family members, different friends, different past, different goals for the future. I had just lost my job -- the 3rd one in 3 years --  and I worried about money and the future.  I didn’t feel like I was dealing with all my changes and challenges very well and it showed in how I responded to the kids and my husband when any new stress emerged.  I worried that I might not be able to fulfill my new roll well, that I might disappoint my new family, or cause them more stress. I was afraid my stress was turning into distress. 

So I couldn’t sleep, during a particularly stressful night, during this particularly stressful week.  After I tossed and turned for quite a while I worried about waking him, so I went out to sit on the couch, in the family room, in a house which didn’t yet feel like mine.  I sat and stared into the dark and felt terribly alone, terribly out of place, missing my girls, missing my cat who would have comforted me if I was living in my old home, missing my things, worrying about the future, and I said out loud “Oh Lord, what do I do? How do I get through this?”

Instantly I felt very thirsty. Not just thirsty --  incredibly thirsty. I got up and went to the kitchen, the kitchen which still felt to me like her kitchen, and reached into the cabinet to get a glass, one of the only glasses there that was mine, and turned to the sink to get water. As I stood there waiting for the water to run cool I noticed something sticking out of a little drawer in the oak roll top breadbox next to the sink.  I turned on the light over the sink and saw it was a piece of colored tape from a food package I had opened earlier that day, as I made a meal for her family.  It was stuck to the inside of the drawer, sticking up like one of those Post-it tabs you use to mark an important place in a book.  As I drank my glass of water I contemplated the tape and was puzzled as to how it came to be sticking out of the drawer. I grabbed it and pulled but it was stuck pretty tight; someone would have had to have opened the drawer and stuck it there intentionally, I thought, but why? 

Then all of a sudden I knew I was supposed to open that drawer. There was something there I was meant to see.   I had only opened it once or twice since I had lived there, to find birthday candles (that’s another story I will share another time), batteries, or a rubber band, and each time I felt like I was snooping in someone else’s belongings. Feeling like I was opening an old jewelry box in my grandmother’s attic, I slowly opened the drawer and began to look through the contents.  Those batteries: were they used or new? Those random birthday candles: I wonder for whose birthday she bought them? A key: was it her key and to what did it belong? A broken piece from a child’s toy: did she put it there with plans to fix the toy on another day? I moved all the odds and ends aside and what I found was a chain attached to a glass cross lying face down, with tiny flowers pressed between the pieces of glass.  I picked up the cross, turned it over and read the quote printed in the crux of the cross: “With Faith, Live One Day at a Time”.