December 08, 2004
Gregory West
Well, here we are. Eleven months - almost a year! I hate to use those words because it instantly conjures up little demons of conspiracy that want to toss one or both of us in front of a semi before we hit the Official One Year Anniversary, but I think acknowledging the demons keeps them away, so we should be cool. I'll spare you all the really mushy stuff until then.
You've had a rough week. I know this. I'm pretty smart. That's why you love me. You're pretty smart, too. That's why I love you.
We were driving over the River Shannon in Limerick when I took this picture of you. I kept looking around thinking, "This ain't no tough town. I don't know what everybody's so worked up about." You were driving our rental in perhaps the most cautious manner I have ever seen you drive a vehicle before or since. I'm not saying you're a bad driver. You're a great driver. You're just a fast driver. Race-track fast. I-can-drive-this-fast-because-I-know-what-the-fuck-I'm-doing fast. Fast, but not reckless. Like the Tilt-a-Whirl.
And you're a Renaissance Man. Example: Today, I had a headache from smoking too many cigarettes last night. You reached over and, just when I thought you were going to massage my temples, you took your index finger and applied pressure to very specific points on my forehead, alleviating my pain. And I was like, "!!!! He knows acupressure!!!!" Brilliant! And you're always doing stuff like that. Just when I think I've figured you out, there's a new trick up your sleeve.
Like the time you - and the entire kitchen staff, and half the restaurant - sang Happy Birthday to me. In September. My birthday is in March. You knew that, and you grinned at me the whole time like a fourth-grader caught looking up someone's skirt.
It's amazing to think of who we were when we met, and who we are now. Not that we're that different. Eleven months is such a tiny blip on the radar screen. But there have been some subtle changes. Some tune-ups, some tweakage. We don't drink or smoke as much as we used to, although we like to remind ourselves every now and then that we can still hang. You don't have that crazy mustache any more - the one you thought would scare my entire family away - except when you're dressed up as a Guarda. We're taking better care of ourselves, and each other. It wasn't until this last months that we've ever had a "date night," a night when neither of us is working and Maddie is at her dad's. And the last Saturday we had together, after talking of dinner and movies and things we wanted to do and places we might go, we ended up staying home. We never even watched the movies you rented. I had gotten all dressed up, and by the time you got here, we were both too tired to go anywhere. So we just curled up on my bed, and I was wearing this crazy gown from the 1920s, and we had a glass of wine and went to sleep. Well, not right to sleep, but... And that was one of the best nights we've had in months. Just you and me, chillin. We stay home more. I like that. When we sleep through the alarm, it's more often because we're just plain exhausted from work and Maddie.
Maddie. You drive her absolutely nuts sometimes. Utter nutter. This morning, she wanted nothing to do with you. You kept egging her on, saying things like, "Maddie, how come you're so argumentative?"
"I'M NOT!"
"Yes, you are."
"NO, I'M NOT!"
"Maddie?"
"What."
"Can I have five bucks?"
"NO. I JUST LOVE MY MOMMY."
She thinks you're crazy, but she loves you. And I love that. I never thought I would ever find myself with someone who loves both me and my daughter. Maddie's easy. Everybody loves her. How could you not? But you love me, too. Even when I'm all grumpy and being the disciplinarian. You love the whole package. And I am so, so grateful every day for that.
You are my Home and my Heart and my Soul, my Love. Thank you for the best eleven months of my life, and thank you for all you do to build our future together. There is not another soul on this earth I would rather share life, dreams, chaos, struggles, and Love with. You are my favorite human being, the one I have waited for, and I love you. Thank you for being in my life.
Here's to you and me Sunday driving.
