Stranded. In a good way.

I recently heard a guy speaking on marriage. "Rekindle the flame" or something like that. He said to look deep into your spouse's eyes and remember why you fell in love.

I thought for a moment and do you know the first thing that came to mind? I remember my spouse's forearms. New love requires nothing deep. It takes off like a forest fire from a spark. And my spark was a tanned, muscled forearm as it flexed one early springs day 9 years back. He was shifting through the gears while driving his pick-up truck and I was mesmerized. There may have been drool dripping off the side of my lip. That drool could be why it took him 4 months to ask me out. I would have followed him to the moon and my only knowledge of him was that he made me feel all ooy-gooy and he could skillfully drive a large standard transmission vehicle.

I wrote out our love story last year. If you missed it and have positively nothing better to do for the next hour, you may link back (is your Motivated Mom Check-list complete?):

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV


Part V

After a summer of fun flirtation, 2 months of dating, and a 4 month engagement, we pledged our forevers to eachother.

We had NO IDEA what we were getting into.

While I still think his forearms are sexy and strong, my love for him is so much deeper now. It better be. I think the marriage guru had it a bit off when he encouraged couples to think back to the beginning. The love we've nurtured over the last 8 years comes from enduring the hard times, embracing the fantastic moments, skipping, walking, and/or crawling through each day together. Ask me about love during the last 8 years and I think of more than the physical:


he encourages my gifts and spoils me. I wouldn't know the first thing about photography without him.

mows the lawn after working a long day and enjoys it.

teaches our tiny babies to wrestle. No wonder he always gets the first laugh.

wakes up in the middle of the night to check on the baby.

is completely blind to my physical flaws.

helps me change my non-physical flaws with kindness.

is wowed by God every day and is thankful for our blessings.

cleans the kitchen.

makes waffles for his girls.

is okay with peanut butter and jelly for a meal.

thinks I make the best peanut butter and jelly ever. I challenge you to a bake off. Or would it be a sandwich off?

not to mention all the providing and hard work he does on a daily basis.


The 22nd is our anniversary. Woohoo! I put together a video of pictures of love over the last 8 years. I enjoy this song by Matthew Price (my brother-in-law, Paul, is drumming for him now). "Stranded" is not about love being all roses, but about having fun in the midst of real life.

And that's us. Making paradise out of one day at a time...

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The Proposal, an interview

I finagled an interview with the man who stole my heart 7 and a half years ago and proposed to me at Paradise Lookout at Mt. Rainier. Oh, those were good times. I thought this would be the best way to tell you about the proposal since it was ultimately his plan. My wonderful husband is not into giving personal details out, so this will be the one and only representation of him on this blog if you don't leave lots of comments! Enjoy the story...

As we all know, I had a crush on you that whole first summer and had about given up hope on a relationship with you. When were you first interested in me?

The first time I saw you again at Dan’s bonfire (May). I was interested. You had just got back from Europe and I wanted to get to know you more.

If you were interested, why didn't you ask me out on a date? 

We saw each other a lot that summer, so I was getting to know you. It made more sense to me to make a friend first and then there isn't any pressure (or rejection). By the time we had the afternoon in the combine in August, you were a sure thing to me. I knew I wanted to date you.

A sure thing, hmm. I'll let that go. Our relationship progressed really quickly after it finally started. When did you first know you were in love? 

Way before you did. I don’t remember the date. Probably a couple weeks or so after the combine ride.

The proposal was quite complicated. How did you come up with the idea? 

I didn’t want to propose at Christmas because that was too typical. I wanted to catch you off guard. So I needed to get going on a plan. You invited me to go with you to your parents in November, so I thought that would be a good time. I thought about stopping at Mt. Rainier and making the excuse to go on a hike before going to your parents.

What was the plan and who did you tell? 

On the Monday or Tuesday before our Olympia trip, I got up in the morning and told my parents that I was going to see your parents to ask if I could marry you. They were both really, really surprised. I guess I should have brought you around more because my mom said, “But we don’t even know her!” 

I looked up the address the night before and Mapquested the directions to your parent’s camp. Then I made the 3 hour trip and got there at about 11 in the morning. I went to the camp office and asked to see Tom or Sherri. I was trying to be covert, but then I realized the secretary was your aunt. She asked why I needed to see them, so I told her I was Alysun’s boyfriend. She suddenly got very giddy and radioed Sherri. I think she knew what I was up to. Your aunt said I better get to know the family and she took me to meet your uncle [the camp director] and your grandparents who were visiting for the week. I had never met any of them, so it was scary.

Your mom finally showed up to rescue me and was pretty curious why I was there. I told her that I needed to ask Tom something and she got all excited and jumpy. She said your dad was out on an errand and wouldn’t be back until lunch. Your mom had to go back to work and I gave myself a tour of the camp. I had about an hour to kill, so it was pretty awkward. Then your dad finally came back and we sat down in the living room at their house and I asked if I could marry his daughter. He asked, “Does she want to marry you?” I said that I thought so. He said that I had a good reputation, so it would be fine with him. I got the cooler full of beef that I brought for them and your dad said I should have started out with the beef and then asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Then there would have been no hesitation.

[Insert detail from Alysun: My sister’s boyfriend brought out a set of plastic toy cows when he asked my dad to marry my sister 3 years earlier. My dad was pretty confused, but then realized Paul was bartering for his daughter. I told Jeff this story, so he thought if plastic cows did the trick with daughter #1, then real beef would be even better for daughter #2]

I ended up eating lunch in the dining hall with all of your family and your uncle said, “Well, he came back for lunch, so he must have got the answer he wanted.”
I high-tailed it out of there after lunch. On the way home I stopped at the jewelry store and found a ring I liked and ordered it, but it wouldn’t be ready until Saturday, the day we were leaving. I thought I would have to lie to you that night when I saw you, but when you asked about my day, I just told you I fed cows and did some other stuff. Lucky for me you still thought feeding cows took all day.

Did everything go as planned? Did I react how you thought I would? 

You didn’t want me to wear my coat when we got the Mt. Rainier. I didn’t know why. Now I know it was because you thought it was ugly, but I paid $150 for that coat and I liked it. I still like it. The ring was in the pocket, so I wore it any way. Then your first reaction scared me. You just stared at me and didn’t say anything. Actually, I don’t remember if you ever said yes. Did you say yes?

Yes, I said yes. I kissed you and hugged you and was thrilled beyond compare. But you have to realize my socks were shocked right off. You orchestrated a good surprise. And we had been dating for only 2 months. I wasn’t prepared. I would have been prepared for a Christmas proposal. I don’t remember what you said when you were down on one knee. I was too wowed by the lighted ring box and the diamonds sparkling at me. Do you remember what you said?

I know it was pretty great. Very romantic. Probably something I heard on Dobson. Too bad you don’t remember it.

Thank you. This was fun! We should do a bi-monthly interview. How about it? Honey, Sweety?

[Husband avoids conversation by reading the Capitol Press]

So, back to me. I remember the most important parts. The day he proposed to me was the happiest day of my life up to that point (my wedding day and the births of my children clamor for first place now, but I’m not assigning a spot to just one). I was so young and so completely in love. I remember the total shock I felt when I turned and saw him down on one knee. I loved the surprise. I still love his surprises because it shows so much time and effort on his part. The coolest part of the proposal was the lighted ring box! Oh, the ring box. I’ll never get over seeing that 3 diamond ring shining so brightly as he held it up for me to keep forever. Sigh. Those are really happy memories.

Up next in the story, when I get around to writing it, is about our first fight. Boy, was it a doozy! There was ring throwing and phone slamming. Ironically, the fight closely relates to our nation’s current economic crisis (does that wet your appetite? It kinda made me want to eat a bag a Cheetos and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s).

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The Road to the Country, Part V

If you missed out on the first part of the love story, you can catch up here:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

I had been in relationships that were too much work. I worried when the guy didn’t call or when he did and I had nothing to say. I was constantly worried about what I did or said. Either I was trying too hard or that other guy was proposing on the first date. Was there no happy medium? Love shouldn’t be so hard, as I discovered with my new guy. The relationship settled into a routine and it was as comfortable as a cashmere sweater. I've never owned a cashmere sweater, but being with him was as soft, perfect and luxurious as I imagine the sweater would be.

This guy was so great and he did nice things for me all the time. Like have dinner waiting for me when I returned home late from work. Or when he postponed his family’s trip to his cousin’s wedding because it was over my birthday weekend. He took me out to breakfast the day before my birthday and gave me a Fossil watch. He picked it out with the help of my sister and her friend at the Mier and Frank department store where she worked. Another time he drove me to my Biology field trip at 6am in Salem so that I wouldn’t have to drive home by myself. He met up with me in the mountains at the end of the field trip later in the day and we went to stay with my family for the weekend.

I did nice things for him too. Like make a mixed tape for him, only it was a mix-CD, the newest technology at the time. It had songs like, “Coyboy Take Me Away,” and “This Kiss, this Kiss.” I had my sister take a picture of me with her new digital camera and we printed out a CD cover with my charming picture, strangely stretched out of proportion. I bought him expensive clothes because that is how I show my love. We were figuring out how perfect a relationship could be when both people are giving 100% each.

By October it seemed like we had been together forever and I didn’t wan to imagine life without him. Our dating history stretched back almost 2 whole months, yet I felt like I knew him better than anyone else in my life. I began to dream about the future and he was in it. I tenitively looked forward to the following year and maybe, just maybe, a Fall wedding…. I worked next door to Borders and I frequently looked at Bride’s magazine. Even though we had not exchanged the sacred, “I love you,” I knew he was in as deep as I was. But when would he propose? Maybe after Christmas. I knew he was the kind of guy to ask my dad to marry me, yet he had only seen my parents once during our short relationship. They didn’t make the 3 hours drive often and their next trip was for Christmas, 2 long months away. In the meantime, I just enjoyed what we had together. I knew we would end up married and grow old together – the idea was paradise itself. I was thrilled to my toes at the idea of our “someday.”

I am currently trying to get the love of my life to tell about "the proposal" from his perspective. It is way more fun than mine, since mine will read something like, "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness! I am so surprised. How did you do all this?" Stay tuned for more juicy details...

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The Road to the Country, Part IV

If you missed out on the first part of the love story, you can catch up here:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Now on to the continuation, but not the conclusion....

Days passed in a whirl. I talked to or saw my new guy every day. We would talk on the phone or he often came over in the late evenings after I got off work at the tux shop. My heart never stopped fluttering when I was with him and my mind couldn’t stop thinking about him when we were apart. My roommate was often there and we chatted together until she went to bed. Then, the two of us, finally alone, talked about everything important and everything not so important. He made me laugh. Our time together ticked off like seconds instead of hours. How did it get to be 2 in the morning? we often wondered as we sat cuddled up on my couch. The goodbye hugs got longer and I waited in anticipation for our first kiss. But true to his word, he waited for me to give the word that I was ready.

The conversation where I told him I wanted to wait to kiss until we were engaged haunted me. Why did I say that? I knew him well enough now and longed to be with him so badly, that the lack of a kiss was like torture. I tried in vain to figure out how to bring it up.

“Come on, Baby, plant one on me,” sounded a bit too forward.

“Let’s do it,” gave completely the wrong impression.

“I’m ready,” was like an After School Special waiting to happen.

Almost a month after our first official date to the State Fair, we were invited for dinner at the beach with his grandma. She was staying at her time-share condo and her two granddaughters were with her. I had never met any of them and I was terribly nervous. It was early Fall and the day was perfect. We drove the hour to the coast and found the right room. Immediately when the door was opened, I was welcomed by the most kindly grandmother. She folded me in a hug that sent sweetness clear down to my toes. I was the first girl her dear grandson had brought around for awhile and it seemed she planned to keep me there, by her embrace alone. I felt accepted and my nerves dissipated in the welcoming environment.

Dinner wasn’t ready for awhile, so me and the object of my affection walked down to the beach. Early Autumn is the best time at the Oregon coast. It was warmer than summertime and there was no wind. We sat down in the warm sand and stared out at the majestic sea. Could life get any better than this? I thought. Well, yes. He could kiss me! Again my mind stumbled around for a totally cool way to bring up the kissing conversation.

I jumped right in, so totally cool and collected, “So, do you remember that conversation we had awhile ago? Um, like a month ago, where I said that I wanted to wait for, uh, you know, more than, um, 

hugging?”

He gave me a knowing smile and said, “I’m not sure what you are getting at. More than hugging? This sounds interesting.”

He calmly laid back onto the sandy beach with his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes against the late afternoon sun without a care in the world. Embarrassed and mildly humored, I poked at his stomach in retribution. He flinched and my fingers met the tightly coiled muscles of his lean abs. My eyes followed the lines of his broad chest and up to his strong biceps. I could barely catch my breath and I groaned in frustration as I flopped down in the sand beside him.

“Are you going to make me come right out and say it?” I asked.

“That is what you requested. And I am a gentleman who would never do something that you specifically asked me not to do.”

“That is so unromantic!” I whined as I kicked my bare feet in the sand.

My eyes were closed, but I knew that he was now on his side, leaning on his elbow looking at me with that irritatingly gorgeous, cocky grin.

“Why don’t you just say it and get it over with?” He prodded.

“Now that you want me to, I think I can wait a few months longer. Maybe years.”

“Just say, ‘I would like you to kiss me.’”

I shook my head in defiance. “Never.”

“Please.” He said quieter now. I opened one eye to peak at his expression, but quickly continued my joking, believing he should be tortured some more.

“No” – The word was silenced as his lips came down on mine. The kiss was strong and tender and far too short. He moved away from me and smiled. I lifted my head up and kissed him again, wanting to lose control, but he resisted and laid back again in the sand.

“Now, was that so hard?” He teased. 

I jumped up and tickled his stomach as I raced away from him, knowing that he would catch me in less than two paces. And he did. He swept me off my feet and held me close as the ocean roared around us. He kissed me again, slower this time. And I knew that I was dangerously close to being flat-out, head over heals in love as I absorbed the perfection of his embrace.

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Remember When

About a month ago I decided I should really finish our wedding album scrapbook. I imagined it would make a touching gift for my husband on our anniversary. I pictured us looking through it and reminiscing about our wedding day. The anticipation of memories generally far surpasses the real thing.

A month has come and gone and so has our anniversary. I didn't finish the album, justifying my procrastination by realizing I was the only one who really cared if the wedding album was finished or not. We celebrated on Thursday last week with a quick trip to the coast and dinner at Mo's. It was perfect and wonderful to be together. Yesterday we both began to feel quite yucky in the afternoon. We planned on doing some shopping, but instead came home and napped. Last week the girls had the flu (don't tell me you forgot that story already) and it seems as though both my husband and I got the sickness just in time for our anniversary.

In the midst of stomach cramps and various unsavory symptoms, my groom groaned, "I imagined this day going differently." Ah, yes. 

So did I. Words from our marriage vows played through my head as we spent an agonizing, sleepless night wrestling with the flu, "For better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health...". It is so hard to be sympathetic when you need sympathy yourself. Neither of us feels much improved this morning, but life goes on. 

An anniversary commemerates a day. Just a day. An important, expensive one, where 500+ people witnessed our romantic candlelit wedding. But the real significance is what has occurred in the time since. I love my husband more today than I could have imagined 7 years ago. We married quickly and hardly knew each other beyond our twitterpated passion (more chapters of The Road to the Country coming soon). Now my husband has impressed me each step of the way as we grow and change together. I made the best decision of my life when I said "I do" and became his wife.

I was looking through the yet-to-be-completed wedding album this morning and thought I would share a few pages with you.

In the years since our wedding, three of our grandparents have passed away; my Great-Grandma Friesen, Grandpa Harv, and Grandma Peters. Also, children have grown up. My sister-in-law Julianna, our little flower girl, has easily grown 2 feet, passing my 5'10". And then there are the children who have come since -- Emma doesn't like looking at the wedding album because she isn't in it. It's lovely to remember the day, it was beautiful and special, but who we are now, whose lives we touch and are touched by, and who we love is the most important part as I remember when.....

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The Road to the Country, Part III

Giddy excitement over the new intriguing romance enveloped me. He was all I thought about. The next night he called and asked to talk to me instead of my roommate who had been his friend for nearly 5 years. She raised her eye brows as she handed me the phone, “He asked for you. He must be hooked.” That was the first of many phone calls that lasted late into the night. It was as though our relationship was in turbo drive and how we felt about each other was never vague. At the State Fair, just a week after our combine ride, I went as his date and he held my hand in front of our friends. And on the way home, it was just me and him in his pick-up truck. 

I asked coyly, “So, when does a girl get the honor of sitting in the middle seat next to her guy?”

“Right now, if you would like.” He responded. I undid my seat belt and scooted over to sit beside him. I had arrived. I felt special as he smiled his approval. There was no question from that moment on, that we were together. I had never known a relationship to be so simple and perfect.

One night just a few weeks later, we were sitting in a mostly dark living room at my house talking late into the night. We were holding hands and we started talking about the future. Normally a dreaded subject, I didn’t hesitate when I told him my feelings. I told him about past relationships and how they ended. I had decided the year before that the next relationship I had would be different. I shared about what a youth pastor had told me when I was in high school that a guy should never say, “I love you” to a girl unless he was down on one knee ready to propose. If “I love you's" are exchanged sooner, they become empty. I found that to be true and I wanted this special guy to know that I wanted this relationship to be different. 

He agreed but asked, “So what do I say when I feel more than just “like” for you?”

I giggled. I thought for a moment and said, “How about “I really, really super like you’.”

“OK then. How do you feel about kissing? Does that need to wait until I am down on bended knee too? Because that would be kind of an awkward angle.” He teased.

Through the humor, my heart hammered inside my chest. I wanted to kiss him more than anything in the world. We were sitting so close. He smelled so good. The way his strong fingers stroked my hand made me crazy with anticipation. Somewhere, deep, deep inside my consciousness, I remembered making some personal decision about kissing. Seemed like, if my faulting memory was correct, that taking the step to the physical relationship was always dangerous. Instead of talking and getting to know each other better, all we would want to do was kiss and then kiss some more. And pretty soon our relationship would be more physical than either of us could handle. It sounded more than appealing at the time, but I reigned in my emotion. As I gazed into his earth shattering blue eyes, I knew I had many more days to feel this excitement. It was still the hardest thing I've ever done to say, "Not yet."

“I think kissing should wait too. Maybe not until engagement, but close. Maybe. Um, I don’t know. It is just special, you know? And it means so much. And I don’t want to get carried away. I’m not sure.” My words stumbled out.

“I guess you will just have to tell me when you are ready to be kissed then.” He said and I groaned. 

I wanted to say, “Right now,” but I didn’t. He soon needed to leave for his home 20 minutes away. How long could a person exist on 5 hours of sleep a night? We hugged at the door and whispered good byes. Could it be that just 2 weeks before I was happy to just be in the same room with this guy and now I felt his arms around me? I felt so blessed. My toes tingled with happiness. This relationship felt more “right” than anything before in my life. 

This is something better, I thought.

To be continued...

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The Road to the Country, Part II

And that’s how I found myself on a familiar highway heading for unfamiliar territory. I was nervous about everything. What does a person wear to go farming in the country? How would I know where to go? Were there lots of these combine things in fields around? What was a combine? I turned where I was supposed to turn and kept a lookout for something that appeared to be farm-ish. I wracked my brain trying to think of any time I had seen farming. I grew up in the valley, grass seed capitol of the world, surely I should know what a combine was. I don’t think I was looking before, because the big boxy machines slowly puttering through the field on my left looked completely foreign to me. Could this be right? I looked at my directions again and drove the ¾ of mile length of the field slowly. I turned around when I reached houses and no more big machines in fields. I drove by again, slower this time. I couldn’t make out anything that looked familiar so I kept going. By my third time by the field, I had convinced myself that this must be right and turned down a gravel driveway and stopped in the middle of a large turn around and waited for someone to tell me what to do.

What happens now? I was more nervous that I had ever been. The voice recital where I almost passed out on stage last the year before had nothing compared to this situation. My arm pits were pouring sweat and the little metal car was heating up like an oven. I got out of the car and shielded my eyes against the afternoon sun, looking at the big machines in the distance. One of the machines changed directions and sped up as it headed my way. The thing was roughly the size of house and I didn’t know whether to stay or to run as it pulled up inches from where I stood. I saw him inside the large windowed cab and he was smiling at me. He waved to me like, “Come on.” Come on where? Then I noticed a ladder on the side and assumed I should climb it. I was thankful I had gone for country casual with my denim cut-offs and not-white t-shirt since the whole machine was covered in powdery dust. I finally convinced myself I would have to touch the dirt rails and I climbed to the top. He quickly opened the door and I walked in bent over. My face was about 2 inches from his and I tried to turn around to find a place to put myself. This was awkward and I wanted to turn around and leave, but the thought of climbing down that dirty ladder changed my mind. He scooted over and folded an arm-rest down until it was level with the seat, leaving me about 6 inches for me to put my bottom directly next to his. The alternative was sitting on the instrument panel, so I sat, closer to him that I had ever been. I also believe my bottom was clinched tighter than it had ever been as I willed myself to stay on my 6 inches of the seat.

He said, “So, you find it okay?” He had an undeniable smirk on his handsome face. I looked out the large picture window of the cab and saw the terrific view of the whole field and the quiet country road right next to the field. Heat rushed to my face as I realized that he had seen me drive by not once, but 3 times. I was overheated and sweaty and so thankful for the cold air conditioned wind blowing on me.

“Be nice. I believe you said the alternative is sitting here in silence. I know this road pretty well by now, so I could just drive myself home if you’d like.” I said, mustering any sense of humor I had left.

“Stay,” was all he had to say. We talked for hours about everything. He told me about his family and his travels. He was the oldest of 5 and had been to Eastern Europe twice and to Africa twice. He also went to the Bahamas. All on mission trips. He told me about 4H and how his mom made him enter every competition as a kid. He even entered a flower arranging competition as well as countless food preparation competitions. He told me about the farm and how his younger brother was driving the other combine. He also told me about how he and his younger brother had made fun of me over the CB radios as they saw me drive by not once, but 3 times. He told me that his grandpa had died the day before. Our conversation went deeper and it felt like we had known each other for years.

It is amazing he had a chance to talk at all because I gave him my life story that afternoon. No details were left out, from my childhood as a carpet layer’s daughter to my favorite dessert: root bear floats. What could be better than a dessert and a beverage in one? It was so easy to talk, pressed close together in the quiet, going 4 miles an hour around and around through a wide open field. I told him about the previous summer and my epiphany on the rock when I clearly heard God say, “I have something better for you.” He smiled and asked if I had found it yet.

My stomach flipped and I said, “I’m working on it.”

It was perfect. He was perfect. But I was hungry. I was just a little confused at why he didn’t stop the huge machine instantly when I hinted that getting some food would be a good idea. I was hoping for a dinner invitation, but instead he said “goodbye” and “see you later” and “thanks for coming.” I crawled down the ladder to my car that now looked like I had parked it in the middle everything. It would be almost a year later as a married farmer’s wife that I would finally realize why he had not asked me to dinner -- he still had at least 3 hours of work to do until dark. On my drive home I replayed our conversation over in my head. I knew that even if I didn’t find romance, I had found a friend I wanted to keep forever.

The next day I reported to work and gushed to my co-workers that I had been out on a date. The year that they had known me I had been perpetually single. They joked that the mannequin in the corner of our tuxedo rental showroom was my boyfriend. He was named for the tux that he wore, Geoffrey Bean. “I have my own Jeff. And he’s real!” They wanted all the delicious details, but failed to be impressed that my grand “date” involved a dusty combine and no dinner invite. They said, “He was just using you to pass the time.” (In a strictly wholesome sense of course). If he was really that into you he would have asked you to dinner or set up another date -- a real date. I began to doubt the connection I felt during the long afternoon before. Maybe he only thought of me as a friend. Except for throwing a grape at me a month previously, he had never made any moves to be with me. Even yesterday’s activity had been connived by my well-meaning roommate and myself, not him. He didn’t even act excited that I was coming. Give up. Give up. Go back to the mannequin, I told myself.

At the end of the day, I drove home in the waning twilight defeated in the pursuit of my perfect guy. I had decided to end my crush once and for all and give up on someone who was clearly not interested in me. This was unfamiliar to me. I had never had feelings for a guy that were not returned. I didn't like it and I felt pitiful. I pulled into my familiar spot in the driveway and cut my engine, sitting in the silence of my car. I then looked up when I heard the rumbling of an unmistakable diesel engine. Despite my best intentions to give up, I jumped out of the car with a curious smile. He came around his truck to meet me with a grin, gesturing to the 6 pack of Mug Root Bear and the carton of vanilla ice cream he held in his hands.

"I thought you might enjoy this. You interested?" He said. And I melted.

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The Road to the Country, Part I

Romance is in the air as we anticipate our anniversary on Sunday. I can't help thinking about the days when I barely knew my husband. Young love is so fun and I am going to tell you our love story. This is no "Black Heals to Tractor Wheels," but sort of my version of how I fell in love with a country boy.

The conversation ran vividly through my mind as I drove down a familiar highway out into the country. It had been almost a year to the day when I last talked to my boyfriend, “Mr. Perfect” on the phone. He pleaded with me, “Please, give it a year. Maybe you are right, we just need to grow up a little more. I’ll give you time. Just a year and then we can work this out. Promise me there won’t be anyone else.” I had already told him I wasn’t returning to college. I wasn’t returning to him and I was breaking off our 9 month relationship. The phone call that night was the third in a few days that attempted and failed to bridge the gap created by 2,000 miles and 2 countries. I was filled with the need to just be done, but I promised him anyway. Maybe I was weak. Or maybe I knew I really did need the time to grow up. But I promised him “1 year.”

My reality changed in those 12 months. I worked. I was taking classes at a jr. college, serious things like photography and swimming. I went to Europe like I said I would. I was living on my own. And I met someone who made my heart flutter with anticipation, and it wasn’t my former “Mr. Perfect.” It was a crush for sure, but I knew from experience; from dating the wrong kinds of guys, from falling in love with the wrong kinds of guys, that his one was special. Today was the first time I would be with him alone. My hands were sweaty as I gripped the steering wheel of my 1981 VW Rabbit. It was August and hot and I longed for air conditioning. Instead, the windows were down and the rush of wind made it impossible to hear anything but my own thoughts.

I thought about the encounters I had had with my new interest over the summer as butterflies danced in my stomach. The first time we touched as I slid into the middle seat to make room for 4 in the front of his truck: his strong and tanned forearm brushed my arm and all of my nerve endings jolted with excitement. I couldn’t take my eyes off his arms; or his work worn hand as he casually gripped the gear shift and put the powerful vehicle into motion through the bumpy field after a bonfire. I didn’t even know this guy, but I sure wanted to. After that, I found myself looking for opportunities to be with him. My roommate and I had BBQs and movie nights and he was always invited. He was fun and he was always up for an adventure. He was loyal to his friends and his friends were loyal to him, as I found out when I quietly asked questions about him. No one had anything bad to say about this guy. I liked everything I learned about him. We went camping in July with a big group of friends and he threw a grape at my head when we stopped for a picnic. I turned to give him a flirtatious look and saw his mischievous grin. That was a clue that maybe he liked me too and I was thrilled. That same day though, I overheard him say “There just aren’t any good girls left.” I was disheartened and began to mentally give up on him. I had pined over him all summer with no response. I gave myself a reality check. My little summer crush had to come to an end.

My roommate endeavored to throw us together and encouraged me not to give up. “He’s such a good guy,” she would say. I asked her why she didn’t go for him and she laughed as she recalled a disastrous trip to California she took with him the winter before. They fought the whole time and got on each other’s nerves. “But he might be perfect for you,” she persuaded. My one and only chance to find out if there was any possibility between us came at the end of the summer. He was over at the house and told the group about how the radio in his combine wasn’t working. He had spent 10 hours that day in utter silence. Did anyone want to come ride with him tomorrow? My roommate piped up and said, "Alysun has the day off tomorrow. She could go." As casually as possible with my heart in my throat, I said, “Ya, that would work.” He didn’t jump up and down or sweep me into his arms. He just said, rather non-committedly, “Sounds good.” I told him later it would be fun to learn something about farming. What a line! He gave me directions to the field where he would be the next day and I said I would come after lunch. I felt too forward and a little silly, but I couldn’t help the nervous excitement as I thought of being alone with him. Tomorrow I would find out if there was a future to my crush or whether I needed to move on once again.

To be continued....

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