Friday, August 16, 2013
About a month ago, I got a call from a man asking me, "Do you know what today is?"
I was holding a darling red-headed orangutan baby with one arm (Zoë) and stirring something on the stove in the other. Not the safest way to make dinner.
"Umm...no. July 10th?"
"Stop making dinner," he said.
Oooook. "I have no idea what he is talking about but I will gladly obey when someone commands me to stop making dinner," I thought.
An hour later an angelic babysitter waltzed through my mudroom door and relieved me of the children. The man I'd spoken on the phone with whisked me away on a mystery date.
"I was going to borrow the Flint's red jeep," said the handsome Matt Damon look-alike in the driver's seat.
That's when it dawned on me. "Light bulb!" July 10th, 10 years ago (!), was when we had our first date. You know, the night we jumped into the ocean with most of our clothes on. We don't normally do anything to celebrate or remember this day other than the occasional, "Oh, wow. Look at the calendar. Today is the anniversary of our first date." I was so touched that Vic would remember this day and actually make detailed plans to recreate it, red Jeep and all.
We got takeout from Cafe Rio and headed to a spot near some water. I don't think it was a full moon as it had been on that fateful night 10 years ago. But the Park City evening air was absolutely delicious and the scenery breathtaking.
As we walked down the trail, through the aspens and wildflower meadows to our secret spot (I'm not going to tell you where), we spotted a large deer standing statuesque in the distance. He stared at us, and we stared back at his majesty.
The sun was beginning to set as we sat down to eat our food. It was such a simple thing, but so thoughtful and surprising. I was elated. I'd gone from holding a soiled monkey on my hip, stirring food over a hot stove, tripping over toys, and dreading the bedtime routine, to sitting in our secret spot with delicious food, the peaceful sounds of nature singing in my ears, and remembering the night I fell in love with my husband. I'd say it was close to magical.
After our meal, we headed closer to the water, and were about to cross the bridge when we heard someone screaming, "Help, help, help!" My heart started racing as we ran toward the cry.
Vic got there before me and was tending to a young girl, about 9 years old, who had taken a fall off her mountain bike. She was bleeding and visibly shaken. It was nothing serious, but she was young and frightened and most of her group was up ahead of her. We used some water to wash her wound and found a band-aid from one of her friends. I mostly stood and watched as Vic took care of her and talked to her.
It wasn't that big of a deal, but something about the way he treated her, on the anniversary of our first date, remembering all we've been through, all of the "help, help, help me's!" since the moment Lucy started choking...it just made me feel so tender toward him. And it kind of shook me up a bit. It's never a fun thing to hear those words coming from a child, or anyone.
We ended up walking the trail (instead of jumping in the freezing cold stream/river), and enjoying our night together. We got home and the kids were tucked in bed. Vic took the babysitter home so I could enjoy the quiet house and get ready for bed.
Since then, I've realized that everyday should be a "Do you know what today is?" kind of day. A day we take time to do something special, thoughtful, simple, for those we love. Everyday is a day to celebrate simply being together. Being alive. (If you saw my facebook post yesterday, you would know that this philosophy applies to everyday, just not ALL DAY...ha).
Thank you, honey bun, for a wonderful evening. Do you know what today is? It's the day I love you.
Posted by Molly Bice-Jackson at 8:55 AM