Lesson Two:
"Airports and Rearview Mirrors: Love is Always a Journey"
10/20/2013
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).
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