Your Stories: Different Kind of Love

I just came across this story while I was perusing Twitter before I went to bed, and felt compelled to share it. I know I don't usually post these kinds of stories, but it's still a love story.

Below is an excerpt. Find the full story here.


Kaylea is my little cousin. She is six years old, she is one of the brightest students in her Kindergarten class, and she LOVES to read! And not to mention she is one of the cutest kids ever! (Well I think so, but I might be a little bit biased.)

On January 27, 2011 we found out that Kaylea had leukemia. She was sent to Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis, and the next day she was diagnosed with acute lymphocyte leukemia. I think at this point my entire family is in shock. I know that I still am. We've dealt with cancer in our family before, but never has it effected someone so young.


Today she had surgery to place a port put in her chest, as well as a spinal tap. The plan is to start chemo sometime later today. I was able to talk to her mother this morning and said that throughout the entire ordeal Kaylea has been laughing and smiling. That doesn't surprise me at all.... that's just the way she is. I don't think I've ever seen this little girl not have a smile on her face.



I know how powerful the bookish community can be, and I am reaching out to you now.

As I said Kaylea loves to read! If you would be interested in sending a card or maybe even a book her way, I know that it would put a smile on her face. Kaylea isn't picky about books, she likes all kinds. Ones that she can read herself or ones that her momma can read to her! (She likes books about ballerinas and sign language! But I'm sure she would be happy with anything, I believe she is at a pre-k & k reading level, or a reading age of 4-8... hopefully that helps.)

Kaylea Stewart
P.O. Box 623
Parker City, IN 47368

As you can assume something like this can put a financial drain on any family. From the way I am understanding it, Kaylea's mom is leaving her job and also leaving the families only source of medical insurance.

Riley Children's Hospital does some wonderful things, if you would like to donate to the Children's Hospital in honor of Kaylea you can do so, at the Riley Children's Hospital page.

I'm also taking up a donation for the family themselves. Every little bit will help. If you would rather not donate money, I know that the family would appreciate gas cards, fast food gift cards... really anything would help at this point. If interested you can send those things to the family via the mailing address above.



I'm sending her a book called Elphland: The Story of Santa's Elves. But I'm going to see if the author will name one of the elves after her first before he sends it. (He's a family friend) Hope she likes it!

If you're sending her a book, comment below and tell me what you're sending her! I love hearing what people's favorite childhood books were! (Mine was Go Dogs Go!)

*

153. Pregaming

"So, we have to pack my entire apartment before the Mavs game tonight," I said looking up at Cayden from my favorite spot on his chest. "Is that even possible?"

"Not if we lie in bed all day," he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

I grunted and tried to pull myself away from him. Getting out of bed was the last thing I wanted to do, but we had a lot of work ahead of us. We needed to pack. I needed to go to the bank to withdraw my first month's rent. We needed to meet my new roommates at my new house to pick up our keys and pay our first month's rent. Oh, and we still needed to figure out how to get my car out of the parking garage downtown.

I made us a fresh pot of coffee and whipped up a batch of just-add-water blueberry muffins (don't judge; they're delicious) and threw them in the oven. Cayden came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

"I really liked Gayle and Donovan," he said with his chin on my shoulder. "When I move here, we should hang out with them more."

The words 'when I move here,' nearly sent me into hysterics. I wanted to jump up and down. I wanted to spin around in his arms and skip across around the kitchen with him. Instead, I smiled.

"Actually, I like all your friends: Ronnie and Shanna, Carson, Joyce and Joey, Rae. I can't believe there's not a person I haven't liked yet."

"What can I say? I have bad-ass friends," I said, then craned my neck to kiss him on the cheek.

After fueling up with coffee and muffins, we stood in my living room, hands on our hips, empty bins at our feet waiting to be filled.

"OK, I'll pack my books and you can pack my DVDs."

I squatted down in front of my black ladder bookshelf and started separating my books from Stephanie's books. I filled my bin with the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series, The Glass Castle, Oh the Glory of It All, the Post Secret books, Someday My Prince Will Come, My Horizontal Life, and a random assortment of review copies of yet-to-be published books I "borrowed" from the office.

"Are all of these DVDs yours?" Cayden asked from his post in front of the entertainment center.

"Nope, some are mine and some are Stephanies'."

"Is this one yours?" he asked holding up a copy of What a Girl Wants. Ironically enough, that was the movie that made me want to date a British guy at some point in my life.

"Yeah, you know, maybe just let me do that after I get done with the books," I said. "That way you won't have to try to guess which ones are mine and which ones are hers."

"OK, what do you want me to do?" he asked. He looked so adorable in the lounge pants my parents had bought him for Christmas. I just wanted to snuggle up with him on the couch.

"Just sit there and look pretty," I said, gesturing toward the couch. "Relax for a little while, and then you can do the heavy lifting."

He sprawled out on the couch and cradled his coffee mug in his hands. I wanted to be that coffee mug.

I finished packing the books as fast as I could and moved onto the DVDs. I stacked My Best Friend's Wedding on top of Notting Hill, on top of Center Stage, on top of Wedding Crashers. Then I reached in and pulled out The Family Stone, my all-time favorite Christmas movie.

"Babe, have you seen this?" I asked, excitedly.

"What is that?" he said, trying to read the cover of the DVD I was waving around like a crazy person.

"Oh my god, we're watching it. And then we'll pack."

I popped it into my ghetto DVD player (there's no remote, so you have to walk up to the DVD player to push the buttons. Oh, and you can only watch movies with the subtitles on. Luckily, they're in English), and pushed play at the menu screen. I grabbed my mug off the kitchen table and curled up next to Cayden.

The Family Stone had been my all-time favorite movie for a number of reasons: it was hilarious, Luke Wilson was in it, Dermot Mulroney was in it, it reminded me of my family get togethers, it was sweet, sad, touching. Every time I watched it, I wanted to be cuddled up with someone I loved. And I'd watched it about a million times. But that was the first time I'd watched it with someone I loved (besides my family, of course).

He laughed with me, he wiped my lone tear, he squeezed me tighter when I pressed against him. And when it was over, he didn't tell me to get up so we could pack. He let me lay there, snuggled against him, watching the menu screen while little white snowflakes fluttered across the screen. The menu-screen music repeated over and over while I sat there basking in the comfort and perfection of it all.

It was almost 1:00 pm by the time we peeled ourselves off the couch.

"OK, here's the plan," he said. Cayden always had a plan. If he ever didn't have a plan, he panicked. "You grab a cab and go downtown to get the car, then stop by the bank. I'll stay here and pack."

Cayden touted himself as a "packing expert," but laughed to myself thinking he had no idea what he'd just signed up for. Packing a boy's room was much easier than packing a girls room. We have so much random shit. Shit we don't need. Shit we won't let go of. It all piles up in hidden corners, tucked away on closet shelves, tossed in designated "junk drawers." I had no idea what he'd find while packing my room, and had he not already known anything and everything about me, I might have been nervous about it. But I wasn't.

I freed my car from its overnight prison, withdrew pretty much the last bit of money I had in my bank account, drove through Whataburger to grab lunch for us, and made it home before 3.

I walked in to see that my entire closet was empty. My bathroom drawers were empty. My kitchen cabinets were bare. He'd managed to pack 80 percent of my aparment in the matter of two hours. That would have taken me days.

"Babe," I said, wrapping my arms around him. "You've got skills. Mad skills."



*

152. Stop, pause, enjoy

It was my last day of work, and I was swamped. I stared at the stack of folders on my desk and willed them to disappear. I wanted to tie up all my loose ends so I wouldn't have drop my work into anyone elses' lap. We were short staffed as it was, and my leaving wasn't making things any better for the rest of the staff.

"Can we take you out for a drink after work today?" Evan asked. Evan was the art director and the rock of the staff. We all looked to him to help us through particularly rough shipping weeks and the occasional deadline crisis. He was always calm, never freaked out, even when he probably should have. He was an incredible editor, and I was truly sad to leave his staff.

I glanced at my stack of red folders again and then back to Evan with a tentative shrug.

"I'd love to, but ask me again in an hour," I said. "Hopefully I'll knock out a few folders by then."

An hour later, I'd barely made a dent in my stack. My mind was all over the place. How was I going to finish all of my work that day and pack up my entire apartment the next day and then move on Friday? All I wanted to do was have a relaxing couple of days with Cayden. It seemed like everything was always go, go, go, when all I wanted was for things to be pause, stop, enjoy.

My mind wandered again to Cayden and me cuddled up in front of the fireplace at the cottage in the Cotswolds. I could stop, pause, and enjoy that. I grabbed for my phone to text Cayden to tell him I was thinking about him, but I threw it down in frustration when I remembered it was broken. My refurbished phone was supposedly in transit.

Evan walked by again and eyed the stack of folders in front of me. I sighed and slid farther down in my chair.

"Hey, anything you don't finish, just drop it on my desk and we'll knock it out," Evan said, trying to reassure me. I knew his stack was twice as big as mine, and so was Stephanies' and everyone elses'.

"Thanks, but I'm really going to try to plow through this," I said, tapping the folders.

5:00

6:00

The sun had gone down.

I emailed Cayden and told him to head my way because I was almost done. He took up post in the cubicle behind me while I stared down at my last red folder with glazed eyes.

7:00

Evan walked by again.

"Evan, go home. We'll reschedule drinks," I said.

We made a promise to meet for drinks after the new year. I popped my thumb drive into my computer and started dragging my clips onto it. Then I made a stack of the last 15 issues—every issue I'd had a hand in since I'd started there. I pulled the photos off the walls and bunched Cayden's dried, fragile bouquets of roses together with a rubber band. I went to the kitchen and packed up my single-serve blender, my Rosemary Beach mug, and my lone bowl. I'd decorated my cube with anti-Longhorn paraphernalia (pictures of crying Texas fans) for the OU/TX game two months back, so before I left I made sure to redistribute the pictures throughout the office.

"Almost ready, baby?" Poor Cayden was still cooped up in the cubicle. I felt so bad he'd wasted half of his vacation camped out in my office and Starbucks.

"Yeah, just have to grab my jacket, my Webble, and my Snuggie and we're good to go."

With our arms full of my random belongings, I took one last look around the office. It was a boring, muted office with white walls and neutral-colored cubicles. I'd fought to make the office more fun—suggested we paint one wall lime green and add a fooseball table and funky clock, ANYTHING to give it more life—but it was a losing battle. Regardless, I was going to miss that place. It was my dream job. It brought me home to Texas. It brought me home to my family. It brought me home. Was I going to cry?

My stomach growled loudly, overpowering the emotional thoughts in my head.

I looked at Cayden. He was watching me.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"What gave it away?" I tried to smile but it wouldn't quite come out. I was in a strange mood.

"Let's go," he said, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me toward the door. I felt instantly better. I looked up at him with a full smile and said, "Let's eat."

We met Gayle and Donovan at their loft downtown. Gayle was a good friend of mine; she'd been my editor when we worked in the Student Media department at OU. I'd always looked up to her. She was beautiful, smart, and determined. Oh, and she'd also met her perfect match in college, landed an editorial job before she walked across the stage to get her journalism degree (which is unheard of), and asked me to be one of her bridesmaids a couple years later. I was honored. (And, yes, I cried at the wedding.)

I'd met the love of her life, and it was time she met mine.

"Cayden, Gayle. Gayle, Cayden," I said when Gayle met us at the front door of the building to let us in.

Once upstairs, I hugged Donovan and then introduced him to Cayden.

"Can I give him the tour?" I asked them, excitedly.

"And by 'tour' you mean 'shower,' right?" Gayle asked.

I nodded and grabbed Cayden's arm, dragging him toward the bathroom.

"You have to see this thing!" I said. "You can fit, like, 14 people in it!"

I pulled him through the bathroom and through the doorway of the shower. He looked around in shock. It was bigger than my bedroom. Hell, it was probably bigger than my whole apartment in New York.

"You can have a party in here!" he exclaimed. Interestingly enough, the first time I walked in there I used the word "orgy."

The tour concluded and the four of us walked down the street to a Mexican restaurant called Sol Irlandes. I slid into the booth next to Cayden and Donovan slid in next to Gayle.

Big mistake.

Donovan and Cayden had a blossoming bromance, and Gayle and I were stuck on the outskirts. They talked about politics in China and TED Talks and the BBC and whether FOX news was rubbish or not. They were two huge dorks in a giant dork pod.

Gayle and I immediately regretted the seating arrangement.

We had a silent conversation across the table.
"How can we get out of this?"
Is it too late to switch seats?
"Do you think they even know we're here?"
"If I started talking about rainbows and dinosaur eggs, do you think they'd even notice?"
"Probably not, not unless there was a recent cover story involving one or the other in the Wall Street Journal."
"Touche, my friend. Touche."


A few beers, a lot of conversation, and two hours later, Cayden and I said our goodbyes to the happy couple. We stepped outside and realized it had started to rain. We hustled to the parking garage with our heads ducked in our jackets.

"Ummm, Cayden, do you see that?" I asked.

"See what?"

"That sign that says the parking garage closes at 11 p.m. and that there's absolutely, positively no way to get your car out once it's closed?"

"What time is it?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"11:15."

Had it been 11:11, I would have wished it had been 11:00.



*

151. Red, Red Wine

When our tongues were heavy and our lips moved slowly from the red wine, we walked hand in hand down to Fireside Pies. I saw couples walk past my apartment all the time, arms linked, the girl bitching about how she shouldn't have worn heels, the guy offering to give her a piggy back ride. I'd watch them walk by my kitchen window, wondering when I'd get to do normal things like that with Cayden. Only I'd wear flats.

Out there on the sidewalk, with Cayden's big, warm hand wrapped around mine, I smiled knowing I was one of those couples, doing normal things with my boyfriend.

We were seated at a table outside by the fireplace. It was a cool night, but the fireplace and the heat lamps kept us warm. The patio was enclosed with wooden blinds wrapped in vines. The tables and chairs were heavy wrought iron. Everything about it screamed romance.

"Baby, I finally feel like I'm really in another country," Cayden said.

I looked around, confused.

"We don't have anything like this in London."

"Really?" I asked.

"Really," he said, squeezing my thigh.

I had the sudden urge to be somewhere with him that felt foreign to both of us. I pictured us sitting on the patio of a trattoria in Italy, drinking wine while we people watched. Or sitting at a cafe in Paris, breaking off pieces of French bread while we people watched.

"So, instead of you coming back here next month for Valentine's Day, what do you think about me coming back to London?"

A huge smile spread across his face.

"That would be lovely. Could you do that? Can you get those days off work?"

I thought about it for a minute.

"Well, in all of my interviews all they every talked about was how great the vacation policy is, so I don't see why not," I said. "And Dad said I can use his flyer miles again. So what do you think?"

"That would be perfect! And I can take you to the Cotswolds for Valentines Day," he said. "We can get a cottage for a few nights."

"With a fireplace and a garden and a huge oak bed like on The Holiday?" I asked, excitedly.

"Yes, with a fireplace and a garden and a huge oak bed."

I leaned over and kissed him. My lips felt like they were vibrating from the wine.

It wasn't even New Year's and I was already looking forward to Valentines Day. I felt my cheeks grow hot and my eyes stung with the threat of tears. I blinked them away and decided to take it easy on the wine the rest of the night. I was on the verge of being that girl bawling in the restaurant, blubbering things like, "I'm just so happy. Life is so beautiful."

The juicy, tangy bruschetta and warm, gooey, cheesy pizza added to the list of things I loved about the evening. I'd lived down the street from Fireside Pies for an entire year and I'd only eaten there five times. I kicked myself for not taking better advantage of such a beautiful restaurant.

It was almost 11 pm by the time we walked back to my place, still arm in arm. I was going to miss my neighborhood.

"So, tomorrow's your last day at work. Are you excited? Sad?"

"Both. I really don't want to leave there. It's really the perfect job. And I love the people there," I said. "But at the same time, I'm excited to try something new. Maybe I'll find another perfect job."

He let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "You'll make it perfect."

Whether I liked my new job or not, that night was perfect.



*

150. Mind Trip

It was my second to last day of work, and things were starting to get real. Mostly, I realized just how much I had left to get done before I left for good the next day. I was working on a huge travel feature for our February issue, and I had to tie up all the loose ends before I bounced.

Sadly, I couldn't bring Cayden to work, so he spent the day at the Starbucks across the street. My mind kept wandering from the travel feature to Cayden then back to the travel feature then to the fact that Wednesday was my last day then back to Cayden then to my big upcoming move to Addison and then to the sweet, gentle way Cayden made love to me after we finished a bottle of wine and the delicious meal he cooked for me.

I had Thursday and Friday off, and then I'd start my new job the next Monday. That meant I had four full days that I wouldn't be working. I'd get to spend all day with Cayden. Of course when my mind wanders to Cayden I eventually remember he'd be leaving again soon and my heart sinks, my eyes fill with tears, and I completely forget what my travel feature is even about.

I looked around my desk and saw the two separate bouquets of dried roses from Cayden. How was I going to transfer those to my new cube at my new job without destroying them? They were so fragile. I looked at the birthday card from his mom and the picture of my family hanging next to it.

On the wall behind me was a beautiful painting of a beach scene by Justin Gaffrey, an incredibly talented artist in Rosemary Beach, Florida. Justin himself gave it to me when I was down there for a press trip. (OK, so he gave one to all of the journalists on the trip. But I still felt special.) It was my first real piece of artwork, and every once in a while I'd run my fingers across the thick, hard paint and wonder how in the hell he managed to make a painting three dimensional.

Next to that was a 5x7 picture of an old black dog with white fur near his mouth like an old man. The sun above him and the flash from the camera created a halo effect around him. Earlier that year I had written a story about how to love your dog, and we had readers send in pictures of their pups. Someone sent that photo of the black dog with the halo around him along with a note that said, "This was our family dog, and we loved him very much. But he was very sick and very old. We had a family vacation planned so instead of boarding him we put him down." I cried when I read it. I couldn't bare to throw the photo away, but I tossed the letter immediately. I pinned the photo on my wall and looked at it from time to time, wondering what his name was.

Next to that was a framed picture of me and my sister Meg feeding a white African porcupine at the Denver Zoo. I'd written a travel feature in Denver and Meg had tagged along as my guest. Aside from the zoo, we paraglided off Lookout Mountain, got smashed on a brewery tour, got wasted at a wine dinner, went rafting with 3rd graders, and went on a horseback ride from hell, which explained the heavy bronze horseshoe that hung next to my VIP button from the Denver Zoo.

A piece of orange coral and a dirty oyster shell adorned the top ledge of my cube--souvenirs from a trip to Florida. Carson came along as my guest and we took a road trip up and down the coast of Northwest Florida Beaches, stopping along the way to tour the Naval Aviation Museum with Captain Jackass, stand-up paddle board with two of the sexiest instructors from YOLO, camp out in Seaside in the most luxurious beach house I've ever seen in my entire life, spend the night at a haunted Bed and Breakfast in Apalachicola, and go oystering with an old man named Kendall in the muddy frigid waters of Apalachicola Bay.

I'd had some good times at the magazine, and I was truly going to miss it. I made a mental note to take Cayden down to Florida to show him the beauty that is Seaside, Rosemary Beach, and the other new urbanist beachside communities along 30A. We could rent beach cruiser and bike along the water, enjoy a rooftop drink at Bud & Alley's, and then make love in the beach house's king-sized bed, finding sand in places sand should never be. We could make love all night and then pull ourselves up to the beach house's tower where we'd watch the sunrise, and then fall into bed, exhausted and satisfied and sleep deprived.

"What are you doing?" Cayden's chat popped up on my gmail screen, pulling me out of my daydream.

"Dreaming about you. Can we go on a vacation? Let's just run away somewhere."

"How about we plan dinner first. Then we can run away."

I looked at the clock and saw that it was already 5. How had time gotten away from me? I thought it was only 2 pm when I was dream-rafting in Denver and dream-sexing in Seaside.

"I have an idea."

Cayden walked over from Starbucks and met me in the parking lot.

"So what's your idea?" he asked suspiciously.

"Wine. Red wine. All good ideas start with red wine," I said. "Well, except the bad ones."


*

149. Bring Your Boyfriend to Work Day

It was my last week as a magazine editor. Only three more days in the career I'd always dreamed of. I started having second thoughts. Did I really want to give this up? Was I crazy for turning down the travel editor position? Did I actually even know anything about social media aside from this blog?

But then I pictured myself flying to London, maybe spending Valentines Day with Cayden in Europe rather than spending yet another holiday in good ol' Texas (I'm not hating on Texas or anything. But think about it, London for Valentine's day?). That wasn't going to happen on my magazine-editor salary.

"Want to meet for happy hour after work?" The message popped up on my gchat from Rae.

Cayden was sitting in the cubicle next to mine. He'd been at Starbucks earlier that morning, hanging out there while I worked, but it was the Monday after Christmas so there were only a few people at the office. So I nominated the Monday after Christmas as Bring Your Boyfriend to Work Day. I plan on honoring this holiday every year.

I rolled my chair backward out of my cube and scooted to Cayden's.

"Want to meet the girls for happy hour after work?" I asked.

He looked up from his laptop where he was busily typing away at his latest MBA assignment.

"Sure. Only if you let me cook you a nice dinner afterward."

It was one of those moments where I thought, "Is this really my life?" A sexy British guy just agreed to sit though at least two hours of solid girl talk (see: happy hour) under the condition that I'll let him cook me dinner after? I rolled closer to him and leaned in for a kiss. I loved Bring Your Boyfriend to Work day.

"We're in," I typed back to Rae. "Where abouts?"

"Maybe somewhere by you? Somewhere we haven't been yet?" she responded.

We had a habit of always going to the same bar over and over again, even though there were plenty of bars to choose from in uptown. We'd always throw around a few ideas, but regardless, we'd find ourselves at the Gingerman. They have Leffe on tap :)

"What about that new bar over here? The Nodding Donkey or something like that?"

"Sold," she said.

Within minutes, Joyce and Carson had confirmed happy hour as well.

I clicked on Cayden's name in my gchat box and typed, "So, what's for dinner?"

It felt strange talking to him on gchat when he was less than 5 feet away from me, when usually he was 5,000 miles.

"I'm not telling you. But we'll have to stop by the store after happy hour. Then it's you, me, dinner, and a bottle of red wine."

It's what I'd always wanted. We'd always talked about cooking for each other, but his visits were usually so jam packed with meeting people that we always ended up eating out or bumming off Mom's meals.

I knew at some point I'd have to actually start packing, too. It was Monday and I was moving Friday. I was working Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and we had the Mavs game Thursday night. I hadn't packed a thing.

Work carried on, and every once in a while I'd pass Cayden's cube and stop in to rub his shoulders or kiss his neck when no one was looking. I had a lot of work to get done before Wednesday, so I tried not to let Cayden distract me.

The second the clock hit 5:00, I yanked Cayden out of his cube.

"Drink time!"

When Carson, Rae, Joyce, and I get together, we tend to forget some things aren't appropriate to talk about out in public, especially when there are guys around us. We talk about Brazilian waxes, the latest Groupon deal, what a certain couples' non-existent and hypothetical children would look like, and sex positions that come with a high probability of getting us off.

Joyce's boyfriend, Joey, had to put up with it all the time. He'd roll his eyes and grumble about having to go build something or talk to himself out loud about a football game none of us had seen. I'm sure he's just as ready as I am to have Cayden move here.

But at happy hour that night, Cayden wasn't intimidated by the amount of estrogen surrounding him. Instead, he listened to us bitch about any guy problems we wanted to talk about and then offered advice from the guy's perspective. (I, of course, had nothing to bitch about.) He didn't flinch when we talked about down and dirty details of a full-out Brazilian wax. (OK, he cringed a little, but recovered quickly.) And he joined in on our serious, heartfelt discussion on how Pauly D is the sexiest and funniest roommate on Jersey Shore. (He agreed.)

He just fit. He fit in with my guy friends. Fit with my girlfriends. Fit with my family. Fit with my life. I've never even had a shoe fit that well, or a favorite pair of jeans.

Later that night, I sat at the pub table with a glass of wine while Cayden sauteed chicken and vegetables and the roasted potatoes crisped perfectly in the oven. He'd sprinkled rosemary and thyme on the potatoes and the kitchen smelled like a garden. To say I was impressed is an understatement. I'd only recently learned how to pronounce the word thyme, much less learned how to cook with it. I started to feel guilty for the nights that I'd fed him Pizza Rolls and Bagel Bites. I made a mental note to learn how to cook something amazing before I saw him again.

Watching him flip the pan around made me want to rip his clothes off and have my way with him right there on the counter. But the growling in my stomach beat out the tingling in places lower than that.

He set a steaming plate of chicken stir fry and roasted potatoes in front of me while I poured him another glass of wine. He sat down next to me and I put my hand on his thigh. We had a moment. If you didn't know us, you'd think we were praying. But we weren't. We were just appreciating the fact that we were finally able to share our first home-cooked dinner at my place. We were appreciating the wine. We were appreciating the feeling of sitting so close to each other.

Somehow, some way, that meal meant more to me than Christmas dinner.



*

Your Stories: Cherish the moment

Dear Whitney,

I’ve been reading your blog for a couple months, and am still working on catching all the way up. It’s inspiring to see love in its purest form. I just read Addie’s story, posted November 11th, and cried, and immediately felt like I should share mine. I will warn you, it’s kinda long, and you will need tissues handy.

Matt and I were not like you and Cayden, or any of the other stories I’ve read on your blog. Ours is not a story of love at first sight, it took some growing.

I live in a very small town, the population is less than 20,000, and it is very safe and close knit around here. Most of us know one another, rumors and stories spread like wildfire. We are also a college community, with one large university, and another fairly large university all within 20 miles. This is the country, I don’t always lock my doors, and am usually pretty safe walking the streets in the dark by myself.

I have a very good friend Kevin, whose family has adopted me as one of their own. I call his parents Momma T and Dad more often than not. Matt is Kevin’s best friend, so we obviously run in the same circles occasionally. As many times over the years that I met Matt, it just never stuck. He was married, and for whatever reason, he just didn’t make a lasting impression on me. Matt and his wife finally separated (it was one of those marriages that should never have happened in the first place, but produced two of the finest children I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing).

One day early in October, Momma T called me, asked me if I would watch Kevin and Matt’s kids so they could help them with some things around the house, they needed their strong arms. Of course I did (I am a nanny by profession, so it comes natural). This time it stuck. But I thought Matt would become exactly the kind of friend to me Kevin always has, the one that is more like a brother than anything else.

I played in the leaves with the kids, of course the guys had to join in at one point and we were all covered in leaves, but it was the best time. Matt was on the roof of the house doing something, and I can’t remember what his son did, but I told him if he didn’t stop he’d have to sit in time out, to which Matt responded “You rock!” His wife never disciplined the children. I believe in discipline and making children do as their supposed to. They need to learn boundaries and respect.

From that day on Matt and I began spending more time together, usually with the kids and/or Kevin and his son around. I knew that Matt was developing feelings for me, and but I still felt like he was going to just be brother to me. Until we all (Kevin and his parents, Matt and I, and several others) took a road trip to Charlotte, North Carolina for a football game.

The plan was for Kevin, Matt and I to share a hotel room for the weekend. The first night we were there, we wanted to hit the downtown scene and see what we could get into. We went into a bar, and Kevin and I got pretty drunk, pretty fast. Before it was said and done, Kevin and his parents and I got into the biggest fight we’ve ever been into, three against me. They told me they were disappointed in my behavior and that I needed to grow up. My feelings were very hurt because I Kevin’s behavior was no better than mine.

But, of course, Matt was there to take care of me. He took me back to our hotel room, and comforted me as I cried, wiping the tears from my eyes. Something between us changed that night, but I still wasn’t ready to admit that I was falling in love with him.

I was so afraid. I’ve always had very serious problems with men and I’d never met a man as caring, considerate, generous, and thoughtful as Matt. I was also afraid because I was already becoming very attached to his children. But from that weekend on, Matt and I spend more and more time together, more time alone.

Every time he came over, he brought me a Starbucks coffee. He found real mistletoe and hung it in my door way, we decorated my house for Christmas together. He’s always doing something to make me happy or make my life a little easier. We were still trying to convince ourselves that we were just friends though, I mean, he hadn’t even kissed me (not even when he hung the mistletoe), and truth be told, I didn’t want him to. I was scared to death that when he did I wouldn’t be able to pretend that we weren’t more than friends anymore.

A week before Christmas he told me he had a secret, I of course begged him to let me in on it; he knows how curious and nosy I am. He told me he would tell me the next time he saw me. So that night when I got home from spending time with my family, he came over. The whole time in between he kept texting me to antagonize me about it. Counting down until I could learn this secret he had.

When he walked through my door instead of the coffee that was usually in his hand, there was a jewelry store bag. This wasn’t a secret, it was a surprise! It was a gorgeous double heart diamond necklace. I couldn’t believe he would do something like that for me. Matt doesn’t have a lot of money, and all of it should be going to his kids for Christmas and such, and I told him as much. But at the same time I was so very touched that he would buy me something like that. No man had ever done anything so kind.

I didn’t realize it, but I fell in love with him that day. I knew that no man would ever treat me as well as Matt, and I knew that he was falling in love with me too. At this point, although he still hadn’t kissed me (let me tell you, he’s so shy about that kind of thing), we were really only waiting until his divorce is final (which will be in February) before anything official happens. We want to take things very slow, we’re both very scared and have both been through so much.

Three days after he gave me the necklace, on December 21st, Matt was brutally murdered in his house, buy his wife and her “fiancé”.

Matt was the greatest love of my life, and now I will never get to share my life with him. I never even got to tell him that I loved him. I didn’t get to kiss his lips and show him what he meant to me. So don’t ever let fear stop you from following your heart and showing that person you love more than life what they mean to you.

My fairytale ending has been ripped away from me in the cruelest way. Always cherish the love in your life, because you never know when that might be taken away from you. I thought I had all the time in the world with Matt. I thought I’d have the rest of our lives to live our fairytale.

I continue to read your blog, though sometimes it’s kind of hard to swallow, and is kind of sad for me, but Whitney, always hold tight to this. You don’t want to forget a single moment with Cayden. Hold him close and always tell him what he means to you. And if he is anything like my prince charming, he is always showing you in all those tiny little ways what you mean to me. Give him a kiss in honor of Matt and me.

Love,
Jenna

*Follow up Note from Jenna:
The Red Cross is hosting a Matt McPeak Memorial blood drive on February 26th. Obviously readers across the country can't come here, but if they'd like to, they can go to any Red Cross Donor Center and donate in Matt's memory. We're saving lives in honor of the precious life we lost. We will hold more drives every 56-60 days or so, if you would like I can give you those dates as they plan them so anyone wishing to donate may do so along with Matt's family and friends.
Thanks, and thank you for your kind words and thoughts.
More info here.

*

148. Nightcap

With our stomachs full of Cuban food and our glasses full of our neighbor's highly flammable egg nog, Christmas dinner drew to an end. I tend to get a little depressed when Christmas ends because I look forward to it all year. The second I hear my first Christmas song of the year or get my first Tacky Christmas Sweater Party invite, my whole world seems more... magical.

OK, that sounds super lame, I'll admit, but there's just something about Christmas music and parties and egg nog and Secret Santa gift exchanges and ornaments and gingerbread lattes that add an extra bounce to my step. I knew the day after Christmas meant the twinkling lights illuminating my neighborhood would start coming down, "All I want For Christmas is You," would sound outdated, and the Precious Moments ornaments would be carefully placed back in their Styrofoam-padded boxes and tucked away for another year. OK, let's be honest, most of that doesn't actually happen until mid-January. But still, the end of Christmas dinner signaled the end of Christmas magic. So we drank.

Post-dinner drinking games had become a tradition over the years, and, well, we like to honor family traditions. So we cleared the table, poured ourselves another round of drinks (most of us switched to beer or Redbull Vodka because the flammable egg nog sounded put Four Loko to shame), and splayed the playing cards out into a perfect circle. Call it Ring of Fire, Circle of Death, Kings Cup, Waterfall, Captain Dickhead, or The Game With Too Many Names, but no matter what you call it, I call it my favorite game.

Mom and Dad and Abuela and Abuelo relocated to the living room to watch Spanish soap operas (I still think we should have made a drinking game out of that), leaving the kitchen table to me, Cayden, Meg, Corbin, Noelle, and Jay. Then, in keeping with tradition and all, our friends from high school came over: my friend Parry, Meg's friends Whitney and Jose, Corbin's friend Brandon, and later, Noelle's friends Ryan and Laura, and Parry's friend Graham. There's a reason our house is known as the "party house" in the neighborhood.

I loved reconnecting with old high school friends during the holidays because, for the most part, it was almost like we'd never left. We could go a year without talking to said friends, aside from a Facebook wall post to tell them Happy Birthday, but when we were at my parents' house, gathered around the table with our beers and playing cards, it was like we were 16 again. Only a tiny bit more mature.


(Oh, and please excuse Parry's UT shirt. BOOMER.)

My favorite part of my favorite drinking game is when someone pulls a King. The King card means you get to make a rule. I'd say the highlight of the night was when Cayden made the rule that everyone had to speak with an accent that was different from their own and Noelle tried to speak Spanish the rest of the night. Another rule: You can't say names. Another: You can't point. Another: You can't cuss. Oh, and if you cussed you had to stand like Captain Morgan until someone else cussed.

So the game would go a little like this:

Me: "Who's turn is it?"
Jose: "I think it's Parry's."
Me: (Pointing at Jose) "OH! Take one drink for answering my question because I'm the Questionmaster and take another drink for saying his name!"
Cayden: "Well then you have to drink for pointing!"
Me" "Shit."
(Everyone points at me because I cussed.)
Everyone has to drink.
I stand like Captain Morgan.

It all goes downhill from there. It was the first time Cayden had heard of the game, but he was a natural. Kind of like he was a natural at Beer Pong and Flip Cup, too. And to think he never went to college...

We played until every last drop of beer was gone (Well, except for some canned Corona that had been in our fridge since Noelle and Jay's wedding three years back that tasted like aluminum and Sharpies and one time led me to crawl around in my "I heart Quarterbacks" underpants in front of my whole family and some family friends. Yeah, we don't touch those cans anymore).

We played until the Vodka bottle ran empty.

We played until just about every drop of alcohol in my house had been consumed, aside from the egg nog. Something told me puking that would be almost as bad as the jalapeno incident. And when we were all good and buzzed, we relocated. Corbin and Noelle and Jay and their friends kept the party going at Papa Gs. Cayden and I moved our party to the bedroom.



*

Your Stories: ...and Secrets!

I can't tell you how many times I've been touched and brought to tears by your emails. I love hearing your stories, and you've all helped me transform from an anti-romantic to a hard-core dreamer. Before starting this blog, I believed in lust at first sight, but not love at first sight. I thought everyone cheated. I thought "falling in love" was an overused term whispered in the high-school hallways and scribbled on college-ruled notebook paper.

And, yes, I thought happily ever afters were just in children's fairytales.

But your stories made me believe in my own fairytale. Your stories let me transform from evil step sister to the doe-eyed Princess. I'd rock a pair of glass slippers if I didn't think they'd give me sweaty feet and blisters.

But one glaring fact lingers in my peripherals: Divorce rates are on the rise. It makes me wonder, is that because people married for the wrong reasons? Did they at one point feel the way I feel about Cayden? If so, is it possible that one day I'll fall out of love with him the way so many people have fallen out of love with their husbands or wives? The very thought of that scares the shit out of me. So, how do some people fall in love and stay in love?

Well, I heard about a couple named Mike and Alanna Clear, who are traveling the world in search of the answer to that question. For their honeymoon a year ago, they traveled all the way from the top of Alaska to the bottom of Argentina in a motorcycle and sidecar, talking to couples from all walks of life about the secret to lasting love. Then they heard that about 50% of marriages in the UK end in divorce, so they decided to focus on their home turn. They're currently on a 1,500-mile trek around the UK, again, in a motorcycle and sidecar. Oh, what I'd give to be a fly in the inside wall of that sidecar. Luckily, they're sharing it all on their Facebook page.

Think you hold the secret to a lasting marriage? Share it with them here. (Oh, and while you're at it, let me in on those secrets! You know, one day I might need 'em)


Which brings me back to what I was saying earlier, I love sharing your stories.

So, send me more! No, they don't all have to be ooey and gooey and castles and twitchy-footed bunnies. They can be about frogs or Princes or ogres. They can be about lust or love or love lost. As long as they're true. I want to share them. I want to post them for everyone to read. Or, if it's something you want to share with me, but you'd I not post it, that's fine, too! Email stories to me at fairytalebeginning73@gmail.com.


*

147. Picture Perfect

Every year, usually around Thanksgiving, we gather for our family Christmas photo. We go back and forth about where we're going to take the photo, in front of the fireplace? Outside by the pool? Lined up on the stairs like some cheesy Brady Bunch photo? What should we wear? The black and gray and void-of-any-color wardrobe most of us tend to wear every day? Or mix it up and throw in some accent colors with scarves or belts? Who should stand next to who? Arrange by height? By age?

As you can see, it's a pretty big production. But with all the commotion of my grandparents moving in and looking for the right nursing home for them, we didn't have time to take the photo this Thanksgiving. Know what that means? The Christmas photo was going to have to wait until Christmas. How convenient that Cayden would be here for that. No, not as the photographer.

We decided on our usual attire. In front of the Christmas tree. With Cayden by my side.



I can't even begin to explain how much it means to me that Cayden's a part of our family photo. That photo gets sent out to all of our friends and family, along with a Christmas letter I have yet to write. (I swear it's on my to-do list) How am I supposed to explain the random friendly giant to my right in less than a paragraph?

"Oh, this is some random guy Whitney met at a bar last year, hooked up with him, then a year later flew to London, he asked her out, she said yes, then she said no, then she said yes, then he flew here, and then he flew here again, and now he's here for Christmas!"

I'll have to work on that one. Or maybe I'll just send them the link to my blog...

Your Stories: Caitlin and Carter (Update!)

Remember a while back I posted an email I received from a girl named Caitlin about how she reconnected with a long-lost friend via a webcam while he was in Iraq with another friend of hers and she fell madly in love with him and at one point she thought she'd lost him forever? Ha, didn't think so. It was a LONG time ago. Click here to reread their story.
Once you've refreshed your memory, check out her new email below. Looks like I wasn't the only one who got something shiny for Christmas :) (OK... so hers is probably a little shinier)


Whitney,

So I just wanted to send you a quick email and let you know that Carter and and I are engaged!! =)

He asked me Christmas morning infront of my entire family!! Did it up right.. lol I will have to send you the details later!

Thank you again for making me realize what was in front of me.. =) I honestly cant thank you enough!!

-Caitlin

Naturally, I shot back with something along the lines of "HOLY FREAKIN SHIT! CONGRATS!! I WANT THE WHOLE STORY, STAT!!" I admit, I overuse CAPS LOCK functions when I'm overly excited.

She followed up with:

For the past 2 weeks he had been acting a bit weird. I could tell that his anxiety had been at an all time high and he was talking about my "wedding plans" more than usual! He would ask me things like, "What colors do you want when we get married?" "How many bridesmaids are you gonna have?" "Would you get scared and tell me no if I asked you to marry me?".. All of these questions were easy for me to answer however I wasn't quite sure why he was so inquisitive about them! But I answered them one by one as he asked and went on with my day!

Christmas Eve rolled around and it was time for us to go to his side of the family for the festivities! He works the overnight shift so we packed up his work uniform with us to wash while we were at his grandparents house. When we walked in his grandma jokingly made the comment about me doing his laundy to which I replied, like I always replied, "When he puts a ring on this finger I'll do his laundry!!" and we all joked about it like we always do! Never in a million years would I have imagined that the very next morning he would actually be putting a ring on my finger!!

After we left that night we were on our way home and he began questioning me again about our wedding and what my thoughts were. I began to get suspicious and I just knew he was going to ask me when we got home; time went by and 11:30pm came and it was time for him to go to work and he hadn't asked me yet. I just pushed it to the back of my head and thought, "Maybe tomorrow morning." Wrong yet again. When he got home at 7 am I just knew he was going to ask me to marry him but after we finished our Christmas with each other and my favorite little 2 year old red head, Mason, I was expecting him to pop the question and again it didn't happen! So I told myself that I was just crazy and it would happen some day down the road.

We load up my truck and head to my parents to meet my brother, sister in law, and nephew to have our family Christmas by 8am- once we get there we watch the kids play with the toys that Santa had left and began to unwrap all of our presents; once we finished we were all cleaning up from the maddness when he told me there was another present under the tree for me.

I was confused as he told me to sit down and open it. I told him it didnt have a name on it and I didn't think it was mine. "It is yours and only yours" was his response. My heart immediately started pounded and I could feel the room full of eyes on me. I heard a few camera snaps go off as I unwrapped box after box after box, each one getting smaller and smaller. Finally I came to the very last box wrapped in red tissue paper, I pulled the tissue paper back saw it was a ring box and immediately started crying.

I handed him the box, tucked my face in his neck and heard him whisper, "I love you so much.. Will you marry me?".. I shook my head up and down because I couldnt get the words out. Then I heard my brother shout from across the room, "I didn't hear an answer- what did you say?!" "YES!!".. He slid the ring on my finger and my heart sank to the very same spot it was the very first day I saw him and wrapped my arms around him in the parking lot of UCO in Edmond, almost 2 1/2 years ago.

It couldnt have been any better or anything more perfect!!!

I made our story into a book and had it printed off for him for Christmas!! He absolutely loved it.. I honestly can't thank you enough!!!!

Hey, don't thank me! Thank that pesky little bastard, Cupid. He's got good aim :)
I'll keep my eye out for the wedding invitation. Just kidding. But seriously...


*

146. Silent Morning

Noelle was right: I was too excited to sleep. I fell asleep fine, snuggled up next to Cayden who was in such a deep sleep he didn't even flinch when I pressed my ice-cold feet up against his shins and pulled his dead-weight arm around me. But the second I sensed the morning sun peeking through the blinds above the desk-turned-window-bed, I was wide awake. I didn't know if it was 7 am or 10 am, but I knew it was Christmas morning.

I scooted back in the bed until I was pressed against his warm body to see if he reacted. If he wrapped his arms around me, he was awake and was just pretend sleeping while he waited for me to wake. If he didn't, he was still dead to the world. I snuggled closer and felt his warm stomach against my back. But that's all I felt, because for once, we weren't naked. At my parents' house, you just never knew when one of the dogs would shove the door open, jump in the bed, and pull the covers off you.

Awkward.

At first, he didn't move, but I felt his breathing change. I knew he was on the edge of sleep and wake. If I stayed still, he'd slip back over into a full-on deep sleep. But if I adjusted myself just so, I could nudge him into wake mode. I yawned and arched my back, pushing my backside a little harder against his waist. just as expected, I felt his warm hand slide up my thigh and droop across my waist. Bingo.

I pulled his body tighter against me and felt him nuzzle into my neck, where he probably planned on hiding so he could drift off to sleep again. But then I felt him kiss the back of my neck and goosebumps spread across my body.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered, sending another wave of goosebumps down my neck, across my shoulders, down to the fingertips of both hands.

"Merry Christmas," I said, kissing the area between his thumb and pointer finger on the hand that was wrapped in mine. I let go of his hand and turned until I was facing him, still wrapped up against him. I pressed my forehead against his chest and closed my eyes.

"This is already the most perfect Christmas ever," I said, sliding my finger just underneath the band of his boxer briefs. We both held our breaths for a moment. We were listening. I could hear the TV on downstairs so I knew someone was awake. I could smell coffee.

Then I looked up at him and put one finger against my lips, giving him the universal "Shhhh" sign as I reached into his boxers with my other hand.

There's something fun and exciting about silent sex. Every movement is in slow motion. Moans are replaced with sighs. You keep your eyes open the whole time because you want to see the reactions you can't hear—the goosebumps, the arched back, the quivers. You move and turn in tune with each other so as to not make the bed rock or the floorboards creak. It's sort of like a really fun game of interactive charades where everyone wins. The best part is pulling his hand over my mouth when I don't think I can keep my victory call on mute.

Minutes later, we were downstairs making coffee, thoughts of Christmas sex still fresh on our minds.

"So, did you sleep OK?" Dad asked as he sat down at the kitchen table to read the newspaper.

"I think I slept a full 12 hours," Cayden said, shaking his head. "I never sleep that much."

"Jet lag will do that to you," Dad said, and then, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," we both said back. Then I pulled Cayden into the living room, hoping for some alone time to open our presents. But just our luck, Noelle was sitting behind the large, oak desk, typing away at the computer, and Jay was on the couch next to her, sipping his coffee.

"Are yall going to open your presents now?" Noelle asked, excited.

"Let me guess, you're going to sit right there and watch us?"

Both Jay and Noelle nodded their heads, eagerly.

We both shrugged and went for our presents under the tree. Jay scooted over and we plopped down on the couch next to him, setting our coffees down on the table behind us.

"OK, open this first," I said, pushing a box toward him.

He unwrapped it slowly, almost like he was trying to preserve the wrapping paper. Noelle and Jay watched from their posts. Small rip after small rip, he finally uncovered the front of the box and smiled.

"A digital picture frame? How perfect!" he said, holding the box up front of him.

"It has a remote control and everything, and I already uploaded all of our pictures on it," I said.

He leaned in and kissed me. "It's perfect."

Then he handed me a box. "Your turn."

I didn't waste any time tearing into it, shreds of wrapping paper flying this way and that. I held a yellow box that said "Anna Sui Flight of Fancy" on it.

"Is this perfume?"

"Yes. Is that not the one you pointed out in the store when we were in London looking for an outlet converter?"

I thought back to that trip, 6 months ago. I remembered. I'd pointed out the yellow Harajuku Lovers perfume. I'd told him I used to wear it back in the day and I loved the scent of it. I think I might have even sprayed it on him.

I suddenly felt awful. He'd put so much thought into getting me something perfect, something he knew I wanted. He'd made note of me pointng out that perfume 6 months ago. He was good. But it was the wrong one. Should I pretend like it was the right one? He'd be so disappointed if he knew he picked the wrong one.

"It's not the right one, is it?" he said, reading my mind.

"Well, I think I pointed out the yellow Asian one. The one with the dollheads. But I'm sure this one is nice, too!" I said witha big smile and a shrug, trying to reassure him.

"Damn! There were two yellow ones next to each other and I thought I picked the right one!" He looked defeated.

"Oh, it's OK! Maybe I'll like this one better!" I said, opening the box as fast as I could and spraying the perfume into the air between us. We both leaned in and took a whiff. It was beautiful. It smelled like flowers and vanilla and fruit and sex. But it was a subtle smell.

"It's perfect," I said, meaning it.

"I do quite like it," Cayden said, feeling a little better about his purchase.

"OK, now this one!" I said forcing a plain white envelope into his lap.

He opened this one less cautiously, tearing it quickly across the top.

His face lit up as he pulled out two tickets to the Mavs basketball game against the San Antonio Spurs.

"No way! This is awesome!" he said, "but what are these?" He held up two plastic cards.

"Those are $30 gift cards for each of us to spend at the game. They're platinum-level seats and those are platinum giftcards, so we can buy $60 worth of booze!"

"Seriously??" He literally looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yep. And we have platinum parking passes, too. We're going with Joey and Joyce. She got him tickets for Christmas, too. The game is this Thursday."

The smile on his face told me I'd done well. But his smile grew even bigger as he handed me a smaller box.

I took into my hands carefully. I don't know why, but something told me it was fragile.

I unwrapped a small, white box. Then I opened the box and inside it, there was a small suede bag. I pulled open the top of the bag and poured a silver heart pendant into my hands. My jaw dropped. It was exactly what I wanted, and exactly what I didn't think he'd get me. He knew I wasn't very girly, so I assumed jewelry wasn't even on his radar.

I stared down at it, heavy in my hand. Two birds standing next to each other, surrounded by roses, were inscribed across the thick sterling silver.

"It's a locket. I wanted to pictures of us in there, but I'm rubbish at cutting, so I thought I'd let you do that. But that way, since we can't always be together, at least we'll always be together right there," he said, pointing again to the heart in my hand.

I hadn't spoken yet. I felt my eyes welling up with tears. I felt Noelle and Jay and Cayden waiting for my reaction.

Without looking up I said, "I told Meg last night that all I wanted was a heart-shaped necklace from you. I seriously never would have thought..."

I finally looked up and kissed him. It was one of those kisses that wasn't meant for bystanders to see. The kind you share alone, in the bedroom. The kind we'd shared that morning, in fact. But I didn't care if Noelle and Jay saw the kiss.

"I love it."






*

145. Gifted

Once again, I ended up at the “kids’ table” as we all sat down for Christmas Eve dinner. But in my opinion, the kids table is better than the adult table. It was me, Cayden, Meg, and Corbin. We were the fun ones, the cool kids, the ones refilling our wine glasses and egg nog faster than necessary.

“But I want to sit at the kids’ table!” Noelle complained from the adult table.

Jay’s mom and sister (Noelle’s mother- and sister-in-law) decided to join my family for dinner, so they took up post at the adult table with Noelle, Jay, Mom, Dad, Abuela, and Abuelo. OK, so there was one kid at the adult table: Jay’s sister’s brand-new baby, barely more than a month old.

“Anyone want to hold him while I make my plate?” Jay’s sister asked.

“DIBS!”

Yes, I called dibs on a newborn. I’d always had a strange obsession with babies. I started babysitting them when I was still a baby myself, at the ripe age of 9. Don’t ask me why anyone left their baby with a 9-year-old. But I was responsible. And I was in my super awkward years, so it’s not like I had anything better to do on a Saturday night.

But I loved babies, the weird way they squirmed, the way they gazed at seemingly nothing and everything all at once, the way they curled their tiny hands around my waist length hair and yanked. And to this day it just blows my mind that newborns come out of people. They just grow like a seed in there and then one day they just pop out as miniature human beings in our crazy world. Whenever I see pregnant women, I stare at their bellies and think “Holy shit. There’s a baby in there!”

But then once they start walking and talking, they lose a little bit of their appeal to me. They talk back, they don’t want to be held and cuddled, they learn cuss words, they’re defiant.

Cayden stared at me while I tucked the baby in the nook of my arm and held him closely against me. Was he looking at me in adoration? In that oh-I-can’t-wait-until-she’s-holding-our-baby kind of way? Picturing how I’d be as a mother?

Hell no. He wrinkled his nose up at me. Then looked down at the squirming infant with an absurd look.

“I just don’t get it. Why do you like them so much when they just sit there and stare at things and squirm around? They’re so creepy,” he said.

I laughed. We’d had this conversation before. Cayden didn’t like babies until they could sit up on their own and bang wooden spoons on the cabinets and drool all over everything and make random high-pitched noises that gave you goosebumps. Don’t get me wrong, I get it. He doesn’t like them until they have personalities of their own. Which is why (hypothetically, of course) Cayden and I would make great parents. I’ll obsess over out hypothetical kid until he talks back to me, and then he’s all Cayden’s.

“But look at how cute he is?” I said, readjusting and hoisting my arm up so the baby’s blue eyes scanned Cayden’s face.

“Hm,” he said. “I still don’t get it.”

Once I was relieved of baby duties, we cheered our wine glasses and filled out plates with salad, turkey, ham, mashed potatoes loaded with sour cream and more butter than I’ll ever admit to, sweet potato casserole topped with marshmallows and brown sugar, and broccoli cheese casserole.

Cayden’s hand rested on my leg under the table. That was more satisfying than the mashed potatoes, but not quite as satisfying as the sweet potato casserole. It had become a tradition that I’d bring the sweet potato casserole. Now I know you’re thinking, “But Whitney, you can’t cook!” Well, by ‘bring the casserole,’ I mean I pick it up at Boston Market and bring it to my parents’ house. Go ahead, judge me. It’s damn good!

My siblings and I were all rushing through our meals because we knew what came next. Well, I guess dessert came next, but after that…presents! After every couple bites, I’d glance at the tree and try to count how many I saw with my name on it. Our pile of presents got a little more extravagant every year as we added people to our family. Grew a little bigger when Noelle married Jay. And now it was a little bigger since Cayden was considered family.

I caught Meg and Corbin glancing at them, too, nudging at the peculiar looking ones in the big fabric bags. I’m pretty sure I even saw Noelle and Jay looking, too.

“I don’t think I’ve tried anything I haven’t liked!” Cayden said between mouthfuls of mom’s home cooking (and Boston Market’s behind-the-counter cooking). “I don’t know how I’m going to stay awake after this.”

I always forgot about the jet lag. By the time we finished dinner, it was nearly 1 am in London. I made him a cup of steaming hot Cuban coffee to wake him up. That shit’s strong enough to keep you awake for days if you have too much. Mom calls it “tar,” but I call it “heaven.”

For dessert we had the option of Boston Cream Pie (no relation to Boston Market), Noelle’s apple crisp, and an arrangement of different flavored cheesecake. Cayden went for the Boston, I stuck to my sweet potato casserole.

“That really is a gorgeous tree, isn’t it?” Cayden said, glancing at my pride and joy behind him.

“It’s precious,” I answered.

And finally, when our bellies were stuffed to the max and we couldn’t contain our present-opening excitement anymore, we sent Mom the signal. It’s not a spoken signal, but she just knows it in our eyes that if she makes us wait one more minute, we’ll tear into the presents in the most uncivilized way.

Jay’s mom and sister and the blue-eyed newborn said their goodbyes, because I think they could feel it coming, too.

“PRESENT TIME!” we all yelled the second the front door closed behind them.

Noelle and Jay claimed their usual spot on the couch next to the tree. Corbin plopped down in front of dad’s desk, Meg kneeled down to the left of the tree, and Cayden and I sat down right smack dab in the middle of all the presents. Mom, Dad, Abuela, and Abuelo pulled up chairs around us.

We were all careful not to knock over our wine glasses as we tossed the gifts around to their rightful owners. I also had to keep our dog Joey from trying to sneak drinks out of mine.

First, we gave Mom and Dad their presents. A 1-hour driving experience in a Lamborghini Gallardo for Dad (thanks, Groupon!), and a custom puzzle of all six dogs for Mom (Photoshop credits go to Meg).





Then we gave Abuela and Abuelo a huge picture frame filled with photos of all of us kids in our childhood, awkward, and post-awkward years to hang up in their room in the nursing home. To say they loved it was an understatement.

Then the rest of us tore into our presents.

My parents got Cayden some comfy lounge pants, slippers, a long-sleeved black T-shirt to lounge around in, Burberry cologne, and a ridiculously comfortable down pillow (that’s what was in the fabric bag we were all poking at).

My favorite presents included a 4-foot panorama wall sticker of a picture of a street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn; a matching ridiculously comfy down pillow, a digital camera with built-in USB, running clothes, a funky purse from my aunt, and an even funkier retro picture of Cayden and I that Meg had taken when we were at NYLO during his first trip here.
(We’re Photoshopped to look sort of cartoony and retro, so I’m posting that one without cropping our faces out.)



And just when I thought I’d opened the best presents, Mom and Dad left the room and came back with a 32-inch flatscreen HDTV with my name on it. GOODBYE, BUNNY EARS AND NO CABLE!!!

I got hooked up!

And when all the presents were opened and the wrapping paper became dog toys, Noelle said, “Well, aren’t you going to give Cayden his present?”

I looked at it sitting there under the tree, so alone.

“No, we’re going to start our own tradition and open them alone on Christmas morning,” I explained.

“That’s stupid,” Noelle said. “The rest of the world opens their presents on Christmas morning, so it’s not your tradition. Just do it now, or you’re going to be thinking about it all night.”

She had a point. But I’d had this image of Cayden and I slipping away from my family Christmas morning to sit alone by the tree with our steaming cups of coffee open our presents decked out in our Christmas pajamas. That seemed more special and personal than opening them in front of my whole family. And that’s a lot of pressure with almost 10 other people watching!

“Nope. We’re waiting.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Mom chimed in, “just do it now while we’re all down here.”

Cayden looked at me. “I’ll run upstairs and get your present if you want to do it now.”

Of course I wanted to do it now. I was dying to see what Cayden had gotten me, but even worse, I couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened my present.

“No. Tomorrow.”

I tucked Cayden into bed and kissed him goodnight. His jet lag had gotten the best of him.

“I can’t wait to wake up next to you on Christmas morning,” he said.

“Well, you’re just going to have to. Now go to bed. I’m going to go watch Twilight: Eclipse with my family, and then I’ll come put my freezing cold feet on you while you’re sleeping,” I said, kissing him again on the cheek.

“I love you,” he mumbled right before he dozed off.


*

144. Present

“Hey, can you look at the laptop on the table and tell me what gate Cayden is supposed to land at? I can’t find him.”

I’d usually rely on my Palm Pre for this kind of info, but I’d dropped my phone a few days earlier and cracked the screen in the very corner. That one tiny crack rendered my entire touchscreen phone useless. All I could do was slide my phone open to answer calls, but I couldn’t text, tweet, or access my email or the Internet. Needless to say, I was freaking out. Luckily, I could still dial a number into my keypad if I had it memorized and hit enter to place a call.

“It says E9,” Meg said on the other end of the phone.

I looked around to see where I’d ended up. I looked left and saw the baggage carousel for E7. How had I missed E9?

“Do you see him?” Meg asked.

I couldn’t answer because just then the door to my right swung open, and Cayden was the first one to step through, He caught my eyes immediately and I nearly dropped my phone…again.

“Whitney? Can you hear me? Did you find him?” I could hear Meg’s voice on the other end, but nothing was registering. It was Christmas Eve, and Cayden was really here.

He was walking straight toward me with his long strides, a huge smile on his face. I realized I wasn’t moving. I was just standing there like an idiot with my broken phone to my ear, smiling just as big.

“Got him!” I said, slamming my phone shut, even though I knew that wouldn’t end the call. The call wouldn’t end until Meg hung up. I didn’t care.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and reached up just in time to wrap my arms around Cayden’s neck as he pulled my hips against his and sprinkled my lips, cheeks, and nose with a thousand tiny kisses. They were the kisses I’d been waiting for, craving.

I laughed and pulled away from him, wrapped my arm around his and looked up at him.

“You’re here,” I said.

“I’m here.”

There was a lot of anxiety leading up to his flight here. One awful snowstorm shut down the airport in London a week before his flight. Flights were canceled and rescheduled, and a lot of people were told they wouldn’t get to leave London until the 26th. I had to prepare myself for that. I had to prepare for a Christmas without Cayden.

But all the stars had aligned, and Cayden was here, in Texas, on Christmas Eve.

“I brought a little something for your family,” he said, yanking his oversized ‘carry all’ (That’s British for duffle bag) off the carousel.

“Well, I hope you brought me a little something, too,” I said, shouldering his backback so he could manhandle the duffle.

“Well, I don’t think they’d let me through customs with Ben’s Cookies.”

At the mention of Ben’s Cookies, I could taste them melting in my mouth, filling my nose with the warm, comforting scent of milk chocolate. I was suddenly craving a cold glass of milk.

“But I did bring chocolate. A huge Cadbury milk chocolate bar. It’s the biggest chocolate bar I’ve ever seen. And I brought crumpets. And minced pies. And Percy Pigs.”

Even if those were the only things he’d brought, I’d be the happiest girl in the world. But they weren’t. Wrapped in crisp silver Christmas paper, nestled in his carryall and padded between his sox and his shirts, were two boxes. Two small boxes just for me.


*

143. Precious Moments

It was Christmas Eve and I couldn't drive to the airport fast enough. I wanted to flip off every car going slower than 55 on 45 mile-an-hour Southlake Boulevard. But then I had to remind myself, it's Christmas eve, a time for family and road trips and kids singing along to "Grandma got runover by a reindeer," in the backseat of the Expedition; not a time for road rage, speeding tickets, or waving my middle finger around like a victory flag.

Don't get me wrong, I had Christmas spirit and all, I was just ready to share it with Cayden. I had Christmas music cranked on 103.7 as I weaved around cars that had luggage and wrapped Christmas presents stacked to the roof and other cars that had cotton-stuffed reindeer antlers attached to the windows.

Back home, Mom and Corbin were putting the finishing touches on our Christmas Eve feast while Meg, Noelle, and Jay kicked off our holiday drinking tradition and Dad went to pick Abuela and Abuelo up from the nursing home. The presents were under the tree and all six dogs were sniffing around them, poking random gifts with one paw the way we used to (with our finger) when we were little and Mom would tell us not to touch any of them.

Our fake mistletoe was hung above the entrance to the second living room, the room with our beautiful Christmas tree adorned with Precious Moments ornaments (my grandmother used to give each of us one every year for Christmas. We hated that gift when we were younger. But as adults, we finally appreciate the beauty of it all), satin flowers, and fabric ribbons. When I was younger I wanted a fun tree, one with colored, flashing lights, big tacky ornaments in every shape and color, and tinsel. Lots of tinsel.

But now I get it. I could sit for hours just staring at our tree now, appreciating how my grandmother had written the first letter of our first names on our individual precious moments so when we're older and have a family of our own, we'll be able to take our Precious Moments with us to start our own beautiful, classy, elegant tree our kids will hate but learn to love.

I never got the chance to thank my grandma for the Precious Moments, but if I could, I'd go back in time and thank her for the precious moments that resulted from the Precious Moments. The moments when Dad turns on Christmas music (usually Neil Diamond or a Marvin Matthews Christmas CD) while we all sit down around our tubs of ornaments and carefully unwrap each and every Previous Moment, still in their original packages. Some of the boxes are brittle, so we have to open them just so, careful not to tear the package. Some of the glass Precious Moments have been super glued. But they all spark memories and conversations with my family:
"This one says 'First Christmas.' Corbin, that must have been right after you were born."
"Ah, this one is my absolute favorite. It's a little girl holding out a wrapped gift, but there's something about her that looks more innocent than the others."
"No, wait, this one is my favorite one."
"Um, that's not yours. That's mine."
"Remember how much we used to hate these?"
"Yeah, these and those weird glass china dolls that we weren't allowed to play with because their faces and hands were glass. What kind of a toy is that?"
Then we all laugh, take another swig of our beer, wine, or Red Bull Vodka (per Noelle and Jay).
These moments are precious. Thanks for those, Grandma.

I wanted Cayden to see it all. I wanted to him to kiss me under the mistletoe. I wanted him to stare up at our twinkling tree and ask me about the glass doe-eyed ornaments. I wanted him to pick out a favorite. I wanted him to tap his toe against a wrapped gift, just to test the weight of it, see if he could guess what's inside. I wanted him to put his arm around me while I hummed off-key to whatever Christmas music was playing from Dad's desk. I wanted to see a gift under the three that said "To: Whitney, From: Cayden." I wanted him to see my gift under the tree. The one that says "To Cayden, from Whitney." I wanted him to wonder what's inside.

And as I ran up to him at baggage claim at DFW airport, and I felt his strong arms around me, his warm lips on mine, it truly was a precious moment.


*

Your Stories: So worth it

Ali sent me this email back in July, and I don't know why I didn't post it way back then, but what better time than to post it now! It's a long one, so pour yourself a glass of wine, wrap yourself up in that Snuggie, and get comfortable. Trust me, it's a GOOD ONE! (Per usual, it made me cry harder than I care to admit)

Here's just another "How I met my Cayden" story :) I'm sure you have a ton of these already but I thought it would be fun to write mine out, even if you're not able to read it (I'm sure it will get long) - I think it will be fun for me to have :)

When I turned 16 I couldn't WAIT to get a job and make my own money. So I started working at a restaurant, Santa Fe, in my hometown. Santa Fe is where I met Jessica and Bronson. We were pretty inseparable from day one. They eventually started dating and we were still inseparable. Until one day in 2004 Bronson decided to enlist in the Army before mentioning it to either of us. Surprise! One way ticket to Army boot camp and training. Gone from May until October, just like that. After all the training he was stationed in Alaska at Fort Richardson. Jess couldn't handle long distance and they didn't make it out of boot camp but Bronson and I were still buddies. Phone calls here and there, when he was home on leave we would get everybody together for some crazy parties.

I'm sure right now you're thinking I'm going to end up with Bronson, that he is my Cayden. But he's not :)

My favorite phone calls from Alaska would come starting in February 2006 at 2am Alaska time as Bronson and his buddies were walking home from the bar. I'm not sure how well you know your time zones but 2am AK time is 5am Oklahoma time :) I would start out talking to Bronson and end up getting passed around to all the drunk Army guys. One in particular I talked to a lot (and he was the funniest one, had the best one liners and always drunkenly told me how sexy my "I just woke up" voice was) was Patrick. After a few phone calls like that, I finally receive a text from a phone number I didn't know. "Hey it's Patrick, Bronson's buddy. I figured I owed you a sober conversation at least once." And that's how it all started...

He was actually talking to a girl (we will call her 'Rebecca') back in his hometown (Houston) and I was dating Tyler at the time. I would tell Patrick the douche bag things that Tyler was pulling and he would tell me he wasn't sure if he should really try getting in a relationship with this girl since he was deploying to Iraq sometime in the near future. Iraq was going to be busy enough, did he really need to start a relationship and have something else on his plate over there? We talked via AIM literally from the time he got off work until I went to bed with texts sprinkled in here and there when he could at work.

We just had this easy going friendship and it was natural to talk to him, weird since I had NEVER met him. Strange how that works. In early July 2006 I broke things off with Tyler officially and for good and Patrick went home to Houston on leave for 10 days. He was being picked up at the airport by 'Rebecca.' I always told him, it would work out how it was meant to and I'm sure they would be fine while he was in Iraq while secretly starting to hope they didn't work out at ALL.

This trip home was kind of a testing the water phase for them. Over those 10 days I got maybe 5 short text conversations, I was quietly going insane. Why did I care if this boy I had never met ended up dating a girl he actually did know and had known for years. He got back to Alaska, a single and unattached guy. He couldn't commit to a relationship and didn't think it was for the best. The deployment was coming up in October for at least 12 months and he couldn't do that to either of them.

Late July my grandpa passed away. One night while I was working we were texting back and forth and he knew I was having a hard time with my grandpa's passing and was trying everything in the books to cheer me up. I feel my phone go off in my apron while taking a table's order. When I checked my phone, I found a missed call from Patrick and a voicemail waiting for me. I run to the bathroom to listen to the vmail. "You are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear how much I LIKE you so please don't take my sunshine away. I know you're having a rough time babe but I'm here whenever you need me and I'll do anything to cheer you up. Even sing a cheesy song on your voicemail." I loved how he changed that one small word in the song and that was the first time he admitted liking me.

He was coming home again in September, one last time before deploying in October. I was an 8 hour drive away in OKC. We kind of threw the idea of me coming to see him around but how creepy does that sound? Driving 8 hours to a town where I don't know anyone to meet a guy I've only talked to on the phone and computer for the past 7 months. I couldn't justify doing that but at the same time could I really miss this opportunity? God works in really mysterious ways.

His mysterious way came in the form of a girlfriend of mine getting married. She asked me to be maid of honor. She lived in Baytown, TX about an hour from his hometown. And she needed me to come down and do some planning and help pick out the bridesmaids dresses. If I was going to go down there and only be an hour away why not make the trip the same time Patrick would be home? September 12, 2006, I had a test in Stillwater and then skipped all my other classes for the day to drive to Baytown.

The whole way I talked to Patrick and he was planning to come to Baytown while I was there (that way I had backup in my soon to be married couple friends just in case he ended up being a serial killer). I didn't get to Dacia's house until 7 that night. At 830 Patrick showed up at her house. He hadn't planned on it being that night but once I started getting closer, he wanted to go as soon as I got there :) He had his little brother bring him (so he had back up too) I had to go up the street to met them at a gas station and they followed me to her house.

I had nerves I didn't even know existed as I drove from the gas station to her house. I got out of the car and went over to him and we hugged. We were both so nervous and awkward at first. We ended up just sitting in the living room and everyone talked and it all went so well, everyone got along. He held my hand the whole time on the couch and finally toward the end of the night we went outside by ourselves and talked for a little bit. We had our first kiss in her driveway. He pulled back and said ''your lips are so soft'' before pressing his lips to mine again.

Needless to say, I ran back into the house that night giddy as hell after he drove off with his brother. We had plans to meet the next day. He text me as soon as he left and we talked the whole time he was riding back to his house.

Here's the first bump in the road. The next day. He completely blew me off. We had texted and he was giving me BS lines about stuff he had to do with his family. Weird since we had made plans the night before. Talk about being bummed. I wasn't sure what to think but finally just accepted he was a douche and I wasn't going to see him again while I was in Texas. I didn't text him or respond the rest of the time he was home.

When he got back to Alaska. He wrote me the longest "I'm sorry I was an asshole and blew you off" email. In his defense, we had talked in great length about his fear of starting a relationship right before Iraq. Even though it was about another girl, I knew the feelings stayed the same whether it was Rebecca or me. I had to give him that much. But why not just say that? Why make plans with me for the next night? He apologized about a hundred times in emails, texts, voicemails. He didn't expect to feel how he did the night we met. He figured we would meet and we would still be friends. He didn't think he would have these strong of feelings for me. He didn't know what to do or say so he panicked and just blew me off.

He knows he could have handled it better but he's a guy what do I expect? I finally responded and gave him a piece of my mind :) After a few days and more apologies we were back to talking, just as friends and I had forgiven him for the blow off. I told him during my "you could have handled this so much differently" conversation that no matter where he was, Texas, Alaska, Iraq my feelings were NOT changing and even if he didn't want to admit it now, we were going to end up together. I just knew we would. That's why I forgave him. There was just something about him and our relationship, I knew was different and I knew would work out. No matter what it took. I don't think he really believed me then :)

We talked everyday for hoooooours until October 5th when he left for Iraq. Talk about torture. To have him leave and even though we were just "friends," I knew his feelings for me, he knew mine for him, I knew we wouldn't be together while he was gone but that doesn't make feelings go away. In fact, knowing he was where he was, being shot at, going on missions where I wouldn't hear from him for 5, 8, 13 days at a time made them even stronger. I wrote him a letter literally EVERY day that he was deployed. Stupid letters that told him every detail of my day, insignificant or not. He just liked to hear about it and for 5 minutes or however long it took to read the letter, he took his mind off of Iraq life.

We never made a deal to try to make it work when he got back. I was free to date anyone I wanted. We were just "friends." And I tried to date other guys. It was easier when I was drunk and could flirt like there was no tomorrow. But my mind always went back to Patrick. Here I am drinking and having fun and he's running around somewhere in Iraq dodging mortars, hiding in holes, clearing houses, hunting down bad guys. Was he safe? How was he dealing with what he was seeing over there?

He came home on R&R in February of 2007. I didn't go see him, I wanted him to see his family and I didn't want to interrupt that (well a part of me did but I talked myself out of it quickly). Again he texted me all day long and told me how the hardest part of being home was knowing his buddies were still over there and he was sitting in America drinking a beer and not being able to sleep at night.

I hadn't talked to him since March 13th... he went out on a mission. I got a message saying they were going out and he would talk to me in a few days when he got back. Keep sending the letters, he liked having a ton when he got back from being away from the base.

March 16th 2007.
While on a mission Patrick, his squad leader, and 2 others are working on clearing a house. Squad leader gives them all instructions. You go this way, you that way. "Patrick go left, I'll go right." Pat took three steps when the bomb went off. Chris gave his life that day. Patrick was the second closest to it. One was so messed up in the head after that the Army sent him home. The last one walks with a limp and a cane to this day. Pat was the only one of the 4 to stay in Iraq after the accident. He was sent to Germany to the hospital. Where he told them all he was fine when can he get back to his buddies. He slipped out of the hospital before he was actually released and jumped on a bird back to base. They didn't remove the shrapnel from his legs. He received a Purple Heart. He couldn't care less about the Purple Heart, he wants Chris back. They looked for Chris' wedding ring to give back to his wife. They couldn't find it.

If that's not a wake up call. I don't know what is. I stopped trying to date other guys after that. Why pretend? These guys I could see on a daily basis couldn't hold my attention the way Patrick could from half a world away. I set an AIM alert on his screen name and when I went to sleep every night after his accident I turned the volume up so loud on my computer that everytime he would sign on AIM I would hear it, wake up and go to the computer to talk to him. I didn't care if it was 2 or 3 in the morning or 7. I talked to him until he had to get off. I didn't care how tired I was. It was worth it. This continued everyday. My letters continued until he told me to stop sending them because he was so close to coming home.

He was the first guy to send me flowers. He sent them from Iraq as he was getting close to leaving and the card simply said "Thank you for EVERYTHING." The flower shop actually messed up the order so they delivered them twice :)

The last month he was in Iraq, he decided when he was home in Texas he was going to come see me in Oklahoma. See how it went between us and we would go from there.

He got home to Alaska on November 30th 2008. That was the best day. He was home safe and I never had to worry about March 16th happening again. No more dodging mortars, no more missions, no more getting shot at. He was back on US soil. They had block leave after coming back from Iraq. Practically a month, a whole month, he would have to be at home. He went home December 21st. He came to Oklahoma December 27th-December 30th. Mother Nature played a TERRIBLE trick on me because I started as I was getting ready to go to the airport to pick him up. After ALL this build up (and to be honest some dirty conversations while he was in Iraq) we weren't going to be able to partake in any "base running" in your words :)

He decided that was for the best. We needed to be around each other without the sexual part clouding the mind. I thought he was crazy :) It was the most natural relationship I have ever had. He was so easy to be around and talk to and it felt like it was supposed to be this way. He left Oklahoma. I wasn't ready for it. He went back home. Again the text, the phone calls, the "this is sooo what I'm going to do to you next time" talks. We talked all the time. He had planned a trip to go to Rhode Island (one of his sisters is stationed there with the Coast Guard and she had just had her second daughter) to go see his family up there. While he was there, he was talking to his sister and decided he was going to come back to Oklahoma before leave was up. I wonder why ;) He asked if that was okay with me. Hell yeah it was! Round 2 bring it on :) He flew to Oklahoma and when he left Oklahoma he was going straight to Alaska. The base running was mind blowing :) but it was nice to know that we had a connection before AND after that!

He left January 10th and the next day we were booking my flight to Alaska in March to go see him.

Super Bowl Sunday 2008. We talked all day like we always did. I get a text really late that night. And it said "I have something to tell you." That night he told me he loved me. He wanted to wait until I came up in March because he didn't want to text that to me for the first time or do it on the phone. But alcohol helped his decision making on that one :) I told him I would believe it if he remembered telling me and if he decided to tell me the next day sober. He said he would. I highly doubted it.

The next day my good morning text said "Good morning beautiful, guess what I remember telling you last night? I love you and I still mean it this morning."

I was leaving for Germany early early February 14th with a girlfriend. We were going to be gone for 2 weeks visiting a good friend who was stationed there. We had said we weren't doing V-Day gifts bc we had just made it official and I was going to be gone on Feb 14th. On February 13th I got a surprise delivery. He had sent me a Build-a-Bear. It was a Dallas Cowboys bear with my last name on the back of the jersey (he's a Redskins fan, so I know how hard that must have been for him) and the bear was holding a little bouquet of roses even. Happy Valentine's Day to me.

I never imagined going to Alaska in my life. But I made 4 trips to Alaska from March to July staying two-three weeks at a time for a guy I knew it was meant to work out with. He got out of the Army in September of 2008. I moved to Texas March of 2009. Like your friend in STL, we're planning on getting married next summer but we're not engaged YET :)

It's crazy how one tiny moment changes everything, for me it's how the love of my life from Texas ended up being stationed in Alaska with a good friend of mine from Oklahoma. For you it's a random kick in the ass to some stranger in a NYC bar.

So long distance, I don't know quite Texas-London distance but any distance sucks. I've been there. You know when it's worth it and believe me I know when it's worth it, you and Cayden are worth it. Stick in there even in the hard times because when you guys are finally in the same place for good, it's the most fantastic feeling in the world. And it will be an amazing book, an amazing MOVIE (how do we help get that going?!) and a great story for your grandkids to tell in about 50 years ;) I wish you and Cayden the best and I can't wait to read everything you two post in the future!

Sorry this is so crazy long. I don't blame you for not reading it all. Lol :) Thanks for inspiring so many people to relive their own fairy tales beginning!!

Ali





.....As I said, Ali wrote me that email back in July. Two weeks ago, she sent me an update.


I told you my story about my long distance relationship a few months back. (Patrick in the Army- stationed in Alaska for 4 years, goes to Iraq for 14 months while I'm in Oklahoma, etc.) So I won't get into all that I just wanted to share an update with you and maybe give you just a hint of encouragement and make sure you know you're not alone in long distance relationships and I'm here to say THEY ARE ABSOLUTELY WORTH IT! Worth every lonely night when you wish you could fall asleep next to them, when your countdown is such a high number that it's almost depressing, worth the terrible jealous feeling when you see couples walking down the street hand in hand, worth all the frequent flyer miles that are racked up, just WORTH IT.

Then there comes a times when the miles shrink to next to nothing and you live in the same city. You get to do all the normal things that couples do when they live in the same place and that becomes normal to you guys. And then one day you're surprised when he gets down on one knee and gives you this:




Ok so maybe not THAT exact one. But you know what I'm saying. This past weekend Patrick proposed. And I said the sentence I've been DYING to say to him for nearly 2 years (or 4 since I KNEW from day one we were going to end up together one way or another) "Of course, are you kidding, did you really have to ask?! What took you so long! Yes!" Or maybe I just said yes but that's beside the point. So here's to one more long distance relationship, making it to this point and to my left hand being a little bit heavier now ;) and of course to happily ever afters ;)

Hang in there, it's worth it!

-Ali