4.05.2010

Part I

As mentioned in my last post, I have been inspired to write "Our Story." I can't promise that it will be perfect, but I promise to make it as true to life as I can remember, and to keep it entertaining the best that I can. So please join me on this journey...enjoy! [And remember, comments help me stay motivated :-)]

Part I
Restlessness

As a freshman in high school, boys weren't off my radar screen. I liked basketball, mesh shorts, food, and ponytails, but I also liked boys. I was a "pretend-like-I'm-not-a-girly-girl" flirt, only wearing just enough lip gloss to be allowed into testosterone circles without causing much angst. The boys at my school knew my standards though, making it difficult to find a date. I was sick of the run around, the "you're-just-like-one-of-the-guys-I-could-never-think-of-you-that-way"s, the mindless conversations with girlfriends, and I observed just enough to see there was a picture bigger than high school.

This breezy April night was not unlike so many others: stay after school and shoot around, lift weights, catch a ride or walk home, homework, supper with the family. But then it hit me, like many lonely moments before. I wanted to pick up the phone, call a him who would smile when his mom handed him the phone saying, "It's her..." But as the curtains fluttered in my little room above the kitchen I knew that phone call wouldn't be happening tonight, and since there were very few perspectives, I knew the reality was that it wouldn't be happening for a very long while.
I flopped on my twin sized bed, chest down, toes dangling over the edge and, like so many evenings before, put my head in my hands and let my gaze and my thoughts drift out the open screen of the window at the head of my bed.

I don't know if it was the flowery purple spring sky, or the smell of a fresh, mid-western breeze tickling my nose, or the unrelenting weight of my barely 15 year old soul longing to be cherished, but I grabbed a notebook from a pile on my floor, and pushed aside deodorant, hair ties, yesterday's granola bar wrapper, a folded note from my friend at school with "B.F.F." scribbled on the front, my alarm clock... "Ah-ha! Finally, something to write with..."

I dated the paper: April 26, 2001, but then put the lid back on the pen. I focused, cleared my mind, and dreamed up the man I wanted in my future. I have always had an excellent imagination, and in no time the vision of this man was in my mind's eye: Taller than me, dark head of hair, guitar strapped around his shoulder, bible in his hand, and playing peek-a-boo with a giggling child. Sigh. Perfection.

I picked up my black Bic once again, and started writing:

To: My Future Husband

I thought I would write you because I think it will be really cool to show you someday when we are married! I just want you to know how much I already care and think about you! I know you are God's send just for me... I pray for you and for our future together, for the children we are going to raise together and for the problems we will face... I have complete faith in Jesus that He is preparing your heart for me! ... I want you to know that I will fully wait for you... I know when we say "I do" it will be forever! ...

Waiting 4 you always, Kelsey

The letter was complete with exclamation points dotted with hearts. In the top right corner, just above the date, I printed "First Letter," envisioning many more love notes to be scrawled in my ever-changing handwriting. I closed the notebook, and cleared a spot for it on my cluttered nightstand. I flopped back on my bed, this time laying on my back, hands folded across my stomach, and smiled at the ceiling. I may not have been making a phone call that night, but I sure knew what I wanted.
* * *
Maybe I watched "Cinderella" one too many times when I was little, but after that first letter I could not get the vision of my Prince Charming out of my mind. The days tumbled by, as they have a way of doing, and I continued writing:

4.28.01: "I have felt God telling me to be patient. I know that every guy I date is a potential candidate to be my husband/you, so I need to be slow to get involved."

5.14.01: "One thing...I want "I Will Be Here" by Steven Curtis Chapman [at our wedding]. It's awesome."

5.30.01: "Somehow writing you makes it seem more real to me--I mean, I know you're real, but it makes it seem like somehow you're next to me."

6.25.01: "I am writing because I came across some scripture in "The Message" that made me think of you. Romans 1: "God, whom I so love to worship and serve...knows that every time I think of you in my prayers, which is practically all the time, I ask Him to clear the way for me to come see you. The longer the waiting goes on, the deeper the ache."

I wrote and I wrote. In pink pen, in green, in purple. And I rambled and I made a fool of myself, and I drew hearts, and I folded each one carefully and placed them in a box. Eventually I decoupaged the wooden box with magazine clippings and on the inside of the lid wrote in Sharpie:

To: The one I will always love
From: Kelsey [5.13.01]

I slid the box carefully under my bed, not quite ready to, and not sure how I would, explain the contents if it were to be found.

As the box began to fill, my longings waxed and waned like the summer moon, and little did I know that the man I was addressing in each of my letters had already shook my hand.

5 comments:

*carrie* said...

I'm hooked. =)

I had to laugh, because my sister started posting her story about how she met her husband--today!

I wrote letters to my future husband, as well. I think I started around age 13.

The date also made me smile, because that's when I was wrapping up my senior year at NW.

I was really surprised you didn't mention dog lover as one of the traits you most desired. HA!

julie said...

Oh my goodness... I love it. Keep going!

Sharon said...

MORE MORE MORE!!!!

PS Just in case you ever wondered - I never looked in box.

Kali said...

You're lucky I wasn't as nosey as you - I never looked in the box either. Even though you once read my diary to your friends during a sleep-over. Not that I'm bitter :)

So glad you're writing this!

Carrie said...

i just wish i was half the writer you are...I would love to be able to do this but it wouldn't even be near interesting. Your style and added descriptions are great! Like i say to my sister, "I guess that's why you were the English major and i the art." Thanks for sharing!