After the unfortunate mishap of the Burning Afro in which I failed miserably on my state exam, my parents allowed me to stay with my brother And his family so I could take a refresher course at the Livermore beauty college on how, not to catch African wigs on fire. It was during this time in which a friend invited me out for an evening in Berkeley to hear some music. I happily accepted the Invite. I spent a good thirty minutes with a hair pick ratting my long auburn permed curls until I was satisfied with my giant coiffure cascading down my back. My sister n law spritzed me with a shot of eternity perfume as I skipped out the door. When I climbed in Andrews white Hyundai sedan I swallowed a gulp of empty air as the skinny boy with beautiful hazel eyes and chocolate brown wavy curls, smiled across the seat from me. I had had a childish crush on him since I was fourteen. He was a very manly seventeen when we met. We seemed worlds apart. But now as we sailed down the highway the gap between our worlds seemed to close with every passing exit. We Arrived at Gilman street in Berkeley at some strange punk club, loud obnoxious music pounded my ears, strange young people with Mohawks and frightening countenances jumped and crowded all around me, a mosh pit... I'd heard of it, but I wanted no part of it, I was nervous with all the smoke and sullen faces crowding around me. I decided to take my leave, this place wasn't for me.
I sat quietly on the curb for a few lonely minutes before the
Skinny boy with the dark curls showed up beside me. I smiled widely, happy he noticed I had dis- appeared. We sat on the curb for several hours, I can't tell you what we spoke about but I can tell you Gilman street would shape my life forever.
A few weeks later, after many letters, because email, texting, Facebook, all of that was not heard of and long distant phone calls actually cost extra money ... Jimmie Arrived in Oregon. My heart still fluttered the way it did when I sat near him in the white Hyundai. The second night he was there, we sat on the pink living room sofa surrounded by all the dusty taxidermy my mom has collected watching an old Frankenstein movie. His hand slowly moved over mine, I froze in fear. My hand sat still like a piece of cold salami. Slowly as I caught my breath, my fingers clasped around his warm hand. He turned away from the Frankenstein movie and his lips touched mine. My first kiss. Warm and gentle soft and sweet.
It wasn't long, maybe an hour or so, he " proposed" ... " I think we should get married".... Me.... " me too!..."
Four months later , a cosmetology license under my belt, I had turned 18. I walked down the isle in my gunny sack dress prepared to give my life to the skinny boy with the green eyes and the chocolate curls. I didn't really comprehend the responsibility or challenges that lay ahead, but I believed in love. And I believed I loved him.
The last 24 years has taught me much about what I thought love was. Looking back I have no regrets, but it's been a long and winding road. There's been times when I Nearly gave up, but We have endured and we have reaped the benefits of not giving up. Life isn't a bowl of cherries all of the time, but it's worth waiting for the blossoms to turn to fruit. You have to endure the seasons to reap the rewards of the tasty fruit.
It's not an extremely exciting life, it's not endured to much tragedy or triumph. It's really an ordinary life. But in a time when so many have given up, thrown in the towel, our life is a story of endurance, it's still a work in progress because I don't plan on it having an ending, just a beginning and a middle that endures forever.
True love endures all things, hopes all things, believes all things.....
sweetness, truth and sincerity
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