Engagement 101 - Lesson 3 - Couches and Suitcases

Lesson Three:

"Couches and Suitcases - The Thing I Await"

10/26/2013

I recently spent the weekend with my old college roommates at their dorm in the Twin Cities. The four of us sat together around the living room talking life, love, struggles and all the rest when one roommate asked, "What are you most looking forward to about marriage?"

"Something serious and not cliche," were the only guidelines for my response. 

So I sat back on the old puke green couch that welcomed me untold times with open arms in the wee hours of the morning during my senior year.

Something serious. 

The plush cushions enveloped me like a cloud welcoming a plane into its mystery. No. Maybe that's a bad example. Most people aren't drawn in by the same awe I am inside a cloud. I would say like hugging a giant polar bear, but contrary to popular opinion, polar bears are actually extremely violent when not in Coca Cola commercials. The plane example will have to do. 

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I'm quite used to couches. My current job hours away from home requires I sleep on a couch four days of the week. I slept on a futon for three months after graduating college and a pull-out chair the next month after that.

But you can't forget the suitcase. That old beatup suitcase that always sat so perfectly next to the couch on which I slept, containing the four shirts, two jeans, underwear, mismatching socks and one wrinkled pair of nice clothes. 

Couches and suitcases. My two dear companions for so many years. 

You see, my life has really been about change since I was born. 

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I was born in the lovely town of Aledo, Illinois. Roughly twenty days later we moved. I don't remember much about the move, but I've been a roamer ever since. 

I spent the next five years in central Minnesota. My parents suggested I put my clothes in the closet, but I knew I may as well keep them in the suitcase. After all, I was a roamer. I even went by Flynn Rider until Disney bought the rights from me when I was four. I truly regret blowing all that money on Legos and Happy Meals. 

Just before my sixth birthday, we moved to southeastern Kansas - a little town next to a slaughter house. I had some good times in that town. Played a lot of basketball, passed the swim test at the pool, jumped off the high dive, watched the trains go past, rode bike, and stole the hearts of every 1st grade girl. 

But two years later, just as I'd gotten used to the smell of dying pigs, I decided I'd had enough, and I thought I'd try the Iron Range of the true Nort Minnesota. Uncharacteristically, I stayed through all of highschoool. But naturally, after graduating, I made my way to La Mirada, California for college. 

However, once again, after hiking the Hollywood hills, visiting the "true" happiest place of earth, cheering on the Angels, getting lost in Bel-Air, taking a picture next to John Wayne's star and crying a thousand tears while packing, I journeyed back to Minnesota. 

To this day, people ask why I transfered from one of the best Christian schools in one of the best areas of the country. To this day I don't have an answer. Just call me Wade Swimmer (until Disney buys that off me too).

I spent the next two years in St. Paul, the next three months in North Dakota, the next two months in Georgia, and now my fiance and I are all set to move to Nebraska after our wedding. 

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And here I am. Next to the old green couch, suitcase faithfullly to my right, piled with unfolded clothes. Living one day to the next. 

Some call this nonsense. Others untrustworthy. Other folly. I call it life, the way I and my wandering heart have always known it. 

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So what's the answer to the question? What am I looking forward to? Settling down? Taming my wandering heart? Throwing away the suitcase and sleeping on a bed?

No. Not really. 

I don't think wandering hearts ever stop longing for mystery. Stop looking for something new the minute they are comfortable. And if they do, at least not at 23. 

No. I'm looking forward to two suitcases. I'm looking forward to not having enough room on the couch and waking up shivering because the beautiful woman beside me stole the covers. 

I'm looking forward to only having one stranger next to me on the bus (and eventually the plane when we strike oil and can afford that). 

I'm looking forward to having one certainty amidst a sea of mystery. Of having one part of my life I never have to say goodbye to. 

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And don't worry. I'm not blind. I know couches will turn to beds and suitcases to closets. 

....for now.

Engagement 101 - Lesson 2 - Airports and Rearview Mirrors

Lesson Two:

"Airports and Rearview Mirrors: Love is Always a Journey"

10/20/2013

Setting

I'm not sure where the feeling starts. A turning of the stomach, or a hard swallow. You unawaringly clench your teeth and inhale sharply, slow to exhale. You feel the bags under your eyes begin to tighten, like a hand after hours of hammering. Tired eyes begin to wet. You blink, trying to brave the intruders away. But neither soldier nor servant nor senator can withstand the onslaught of liquid sadness.

I stood on this side of security, watching my bride-to-be put her approved shoes and jacket on. She grabbed her carry-on, waved, took three steps, turned, smiled and disappeared around the corner.

I have watched that disappearance four times now. The first time was for a month and a half, when our internship ended and I first told Meredith I loved her, right in front of her summer roommate. I handed her a letter declaring my feelings and hope for future hello's.

The second time was for three months. She came to visit Minnesota for the first time. She left that second time, not with a hopeful heart, but with all my heart.

The third time was for three weeks. She was my fiance of two days, heading back to Georgia to wrap things up before moving to Minnesota. She left that time with a heart of promise.

Today, the fourth time was for ten days - the longest span of time yet. Ten days of incompleteness. Ten days of looking at an empty hand used to five fingers intertwined in it. Ten days of heart-fondness-growing, though I see no possibilities of any room being left in my full heart.

Perhaps that's simply what these words are. An overflow of a heart too full of love to store any more.

Characters

I'm nostalgic. Always have been. I go for walks all alone at 2 a.m. listening to the voices of Brandon Flowers, Jon Foreman, Tom Chaplin and Adam Young (currently Ryan Star).

Being an emotional, nostalgic individual is not entirely ideal for my relationship with Meredith, as it seems we are constantly losing each other, for however long or short of a time.

Conflict

Dating long distance has provided an abundance of time for reflexion, tears, writing, walking and longing. We have had a total of seven plane or bus goodbyes, and even now I work 4 hours away for 5 days of the week.

Airport corners and rearview mirrors are common last glimpses.

A lot of people will tell you long distance relationships can't work. Phones and laptops aren't enough to bind two hearts together. I suppose the cautions are valid. They are.

It's dangerous challenging the improbable. The unadvised.

It's dangerous to set voyage for a land that only exists past the edge of a flat planet. Dangerous to declcare your humble homeland free from the reign of a powerful king. Unadvised to leave the safety of your planet's atmosphere. Unadvised to live entirely for a Kingdom you will never see before death.

It's dangerous.

Climax

But sometimes there is something inside you that throws caution to the wind. Some invisible strength that you can't explain. A desire for something so strong that there just aint no mountain high enough, aint no valley low, aint no river wide enough. A world of passion so great - where words like "impossible" were never inscribed by Webster.

You dive in head first, free from second thoughts - free from fear. You submerge beneath a flood of  raised eyebrows and shaking heads, but emerge with a lung full of  purest oxygen.

I sit in Caribou Coffee, finishing my last few drops of uncontaminated dark roast, risking the rolling eyes and half-read article, staring at a small rectangular screen with appearing symbols and letters, trying to avoid babel for the sake of a...

Conclusion

Maybe I shouldn't have a blog with a title suggesting I have the key to a good marriage. After all, I'm not even married.

So why do I?

Why do I share these thoughts with you? Better yet, what has kept you reading to this point?

It's a journey. A journey every man and woman will take, regardless of their final destination.

Meredith and I are on a journey - walking a path of uncertainty like Columbus and Washington and Armstrong.

I don't know how our story ends. No one ever does. All we can do is journey with hands intertwined, chins up, hearts open, eyes wide, walking to the beat of Brandon Flowers (or Garth Brooks if Meredith gets to pick).