Let me pick up from my “young love” post of yesterday.
So I was a poor college student recently home from studying abroad. Lynette’s birthday was coming up and I didn’t have two cents to rub together. I opted to create a small book of poetry. I filled it with the best photos I had taken and some of the poems I had written. By Lynette’s next birthday we were on the same page romantically – we were a couple. The passing of that year also meant that I was even poorer. So as her birthday approached I agonized over how I might celebrate her? What could I give her?
I hunted down the perfect gift box. Wrapped it up beautifully and placed it on her front lawn at seven in the morning. Then I climbed inside. I sat in that little “b-day box” for two – long and very cramped – hours before her dad noticed it and got Lynette.
If you know Lynette this won’t surprise you, but she didn’t want to open the box outside. She tried to pick it up and take it into the house. Since didn’t work so she enlisted the help of mum and dad. When they all lifted the lid cracked open just enough to give her dad a glimpse, and a near heart-attack, as we locked eyes jsut for a second.
I popped out. And gave Lynette the only thing I could.
Another time, Lynette was returning from teaching English in South America and while her parents were picking her up at the airport, I got a key from a neighbor and set up a welcome home surprise.
I made a trail of long stem red roses from the front door to her bedroom. I filled her room, waste deep, with red, white, and pink balloons. On her dresser I arranged a lovely vase with the rest of the flowers, a mushy-lovey card and two tickets to the theater. Not only that but I rigged up a boom box to begin playing a song from “our tape” (you know those mixes with the love songs of our choosing) when she opened her door. I was proud of this – I had gone to the junk yard and found an old refrigerator which I took apart, removing the little switch that turns on the light when the fridge door is opened, and wired that switch into the boom box power supply – and it worked like a charm.
It was so good to see her – see was real – and she loved me.
We’ve been married for more than 14 years now, and I haven’t taken apart any old refrigerators lately – though our dishwasher is on the blink again.
Our love has changed so much. If you would have asked me when I was writing those poems in England’s Lake District or while I was filling all of those balloons if I could love Lynette any more than I did at that moment, I would have said, “No my love is complete.” And it was (relatively speaking). As I look back I didn’t even have categories to describe the love we share today.
It makes me wonder about how layered and rich our relationship might be in another fourteen years or forty years.
I wish it was a easy to show Lynette my love today. The price of love seems to remain the same but maybe the currency changes. Cause if crawling in a box and sitting there for a couple of hours worked, I’d do it – I might not pop out as easily – but I’d do it. Lynette’s amazing.
peace, dwight
keep loving and blogging! 🙂