Part XII

Click here for the previous 11 installments.

Part XII

Summertime, as it always does, flew by way too quickly.  We knew that when August threw open her inferno doors, I would head back to school and Travis would begin his trek northward to Washington.  And while our last semester separated by long distance wasn’t too difficult for me, I couldn’t imagine how we would endure for one whole year.  Love had caught me – hard and fast – and all I wanted was to be with him, at all times, in all circumstances.  One evening in the early days of July, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was in love.  His brother had married July 2^nd and Travis was busy with all the wedding festivities, causing us to be a part for a couple of days.  Those days seemed like an eternity, so used to having him with me was I.  On the third day in a row of being apart, feelings of emptiness and meaninglessness so acute filled my being.  I laid in bed that night, staring at the old, glow-in-the-dark stars and planets stuck on my ceiling.  What is wrong with me? I wondered.  I was clueless as to what or how these feelings had arisen.  Heading to the bathroom, I pulled open one of the windows.  Our bathroom windows provided a great view: the hill behind our home, trees across the way, the end of our cul-de-sac, and of course, the rising moon – crystal and white, glowing in the navy sky.  Sighing deeply, I stared at the night sky, hoping to find peace, or at least answers for my despondent attitude.  Breathing in the night air, I missed him.  I wanted him.  I longed for his company, his arms around me, him.  “I love him,” I whispered, shocking myself.  For indeed, I had been adamantly resisting falling in love for as long as possible.  I wanted to know for sure that this was love.  I didn’t want to be caught up in the passion and glee of our relationship and label it love.  I wanted to know him, spend hours with him, squabble with him… I was cautious when it came to saying “love.”  Yet, here I was, pining away at the window for him. 

Oh I knew he wasn’t perfect.  He had made his share of mistakes during the time we’d spent together.  Yet, so had I.  He had said the wrong thing at the wrong time, as well as the right thing at the right time.  We had offended one another more than once, but we had also poured out affection and love on one another more times than I could count.  It was now that I was realizing that he was human.  Love wasn’t going to be this perfect immortal, coming down from heaven to meet every one of my needs.  Love was a human who loved me just the way I was, strove for the same things I strove for, made mistakes, made me laugh, and covered my multitude of shortcomings.   While crying to my dad earlier on in Travis’ and my relationship, I bemoaned my mixed emotions over this boy. 

“Dad, I just don’t know how to figure out if he’s the perfect one for me!!”  I sobbed, lying on his bed, seeking any easy answer I could find.

Sighing, my poor father looked at me.  The brother of three sisters & father of three girls, he was made with an extra dose of patience for the female hormonal system.  “Jen,” he waited until I wiped the fresh tears from my cheeks.  “You can’t ask, ‘Is he perfect for me?’.”  No one in all this earth is perfect.  You could find ten different guys that are perfect for you, given the right circumstances.  What you need to ask is simply, ‘Can I live without him?’ and there you’ll find your answer.”

No, I couldn’t, I decided.  I could not and did not want to live without Travis, I realized and admitted that July evening.  Smiling to myself over my new found epiphany, I sucked in one last gulp of night air, closed the window, and curled back up in my bed. 

*

As soon as the wedding took place and family returned back home, I felt free to venture over to Trav’s home once again.  I didn’t want to take Travis away from his family time (that he rightfully partook in!), yet I also didn’t want to assume an important place in the family time, seeing as I was only the girlfriend.  I attended the festivities and such, but backed off a bit, so as to not barge in.  His parents and family were completely welcoming and loving, yet I just felt awkward with the whole situation.  He, and his parents, were glad to see me back with him once the craziness died down.

One such evening, we were playing checkers in the back room.  Chit-chatting about this and that, he would reach for my hand and gently stroke the back of it between every move he made.  He was awesome at this game.  I was terrible.  The basic pattern that imitated everything we did together. 

“Guess what?” I murmured. 

He studied the board.  I was aiming to line up my players so I could skip him.  It was difficult to pull a fast one on him.  “What?”

“I love you,” I stated as a matter of fact.

His head sprung up and he stared at me.  He had already declared his love for me the second day we had been back in town for the summer.  He knew it was early to say it, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer.  He said that he had honestly loved me the first time he saw me in Colorado, right when I appeared in church and had ran up to him, excitedly saying hello.  For him, it was definitely “love at first sight.”  He knew that I was a bit slower in coming around.  He knew I needed time to figure out my mind in the matter, and he was perfectly okay with that.  He simply loved being with me and loved me, and if those two things didn’t bother me, then he was fine with waiting for my own emotions to match his own – however long that took.

“Reaaallly…” he drew out the word in a slow drawl, his grin growing larger by the second.

“Yep, I do.”  I tilted my head in a sassy manner.  Then, following it with a shy whisper, “I really do.”

He squeezed my hand and looked me in the eye, “I love you too, Jenny girl.”

We held eye contact for a moment or two, just enough time before it got too cheesy.  Smiling, he dropped his eyes to the board.  Picking up his black checker, he swiftly felled three of my pieces and landed his own on the front end of my battle line.  “King me,” he commanded.