Anniversary the Third

Yesterday was exactly three years since Pedro and I met in person for the first time. We had been chatting online for two months prior to that. It was in 2020 and everyone (well at least everyone in this part of the world) was scared to interact with other humans, so that made dating tricky. I relished the great excuse to take things very slowly, but then when it was time to meet a guy in person, we had to get creative. I invited Pedro over to help me burn a bonfire, something I did often when I lived in Rainier to clear brush from the large property. I thought it would be a safe outdoor activity.

It was safe. Neither of us had Covid and thus did not share it with each other. And Pedro seemed like a pretty good person in real life. He must have thought I was ok too, because we have not considered anything other than a life together since then. I have mentioned before that it only took me about two weeks to start telling myself he was “the one.”

Yesterday, however, I was so sick. Somewhere during my three day trip to Boise on planes and at a concert, I got a bug from somebody. I’ve tested negative twice for Covid, so we assume it’s just your average stupid cold. I spent Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and our Anniversary just laying around feeling gross. Today I’m feeling better. Yay!!

Things have been topsy turvy for us, though in a good way. 2023 was just filled with all kinds of disruption and that carried through to the holidays. Kellen and Cameron passed through and stopped by the house for 20 minutes two days before Christmas. Pedro’s twins came over at noon on Christmas Day and stayed one night. I wish everyone was more settled, and I wish all the kids wanted to be HERE, but I do love that everyone is healthy and happy and that they have so many fun things to do that they can’t be here as much as I want them.

Last night we exchanged anniversary cards. It felt special to me, that in the middle of it all, we had been thinking of each other. He had whispered “Happy Anniversary” to me when the dawn woke us up. He said he thought he had bought a card, but had forgotten to get it out and write something on it. When he said that, I realized that I had also bought an anniversary card, and had forgotten all about it. Before we got up, we agreed to each go find our cards that day and finish the job. When we headed for bed last night, each of us had an envelope resting against our pillow. Awww.

I remain crazy about the guy. Going from living alone for 13 years to suddenly having him next to me 23 to 23.5 hours a day is a BIG adjustment. I LOVE long silences. I love not talking for hours. Pedro told me he was the same. He lied. That man is a chatterbox. OMG he has days when he cannot stop talking. He will literally follow me through the house talking to me about the littlest things, and those are the days when I am most challenged. There were times, especially at first, when I wanted to pull my hair out. But not for a minute have I been sorry, or wished we had waited, or wished for the prior arrangement.

And, though he is too kind to ever say it, I know I am a challenging person to live with. I have high standards and high expectations and I can hone my comments so sharply that they sting. My high standards apply equally to how one re-folds a hand towel after using it or to taking muddy boots off before tromping through the house. It’s all the same to me – that is, I can’t believe that he doesn’t instantly recognize the error, too – and I’m ready to battle over each perceived transgression. (I had a minor meltdown in the kitchen after grabbing onto globs of sticky something on the refrigerator handle for the umpteenth time. He told me later that he has anxiety now any time he opens the refrigerator.) I am trying so, so hard to chill out. The thing is, while in my mind I can see that I’m being amazingly patient compared to what my instincts are, I can also see that compared to what Pedro thinks is things worth getting worked up about, I can be a tiresome nag.

We are both doing a great job at patience and forgiveness, while we learn.

And then there’s the fun. The super cool things that we didn’t have at our fingertips until we lived together. I love doing our projects together. I love volunteering to help on whatever he’s working on. I love it when we create meals for each other. I love how thoughtful he is about things I’ve mentioned or people I’ve mentioned. I love how he has embraced Racecar and all the hens as if they are his own family, and he takes his responsibility for them seriously, even though I never asked him to. I love how gracefully he gave up things he liked for things I liked, because in the new house we couldn’t have both. I love that he forgives me when I’m tired and lash out with criticism in my voice when all I really mean to say is that I’m too tired to talk anymore.

There is only one occasion when he leaves the house and I could get an hour to myself, and yet I can’t bring myself to part with him at those times. That is going to the gym. I love spending an hour with him at 6 am in the company of a hundred sweaty strangers. We make eye contact across the room now and then, and smile, and I’m so happy that he’s the sweaty one I get to go home with. Recently, leaving the building at about 7:15 am and crossing the parking lot to our car has coincided with dawn, and the sky has been magnificent on more than one occasion.

We were almost home one morning when I thought I could see my favourite volcano through the trees, and I said I wanted to go up higher and see if we could get a better look. “Yes,” he agreed. I flicked on the turn signal. And by 7:20 am, we were climbing the slope above and behind our house, into neighborhoods we had never seen before. We got way up to the top and spotted the view we wanted, between some houses. I parked the Jeep and we both hopped out with our phones and began walking toward the view. It’s the one you see in the images in this post.

There was a man there already, in his sweatpants and slippers out on the sidewalk, taking a photo of the mountain with his phone too. I asked if he lived there, he said he did, and pointed to the house that was his. We oooed and ahhhed at the sky for a while. The man told us that the sky is often outstanding up there. He searched his phone for an old photo, of a checkerboard sky, with blue and red checks made by clouds at dawn. Just gorgeous. After we were done chatting and appreciating the sky, we said goodbyes, and have-a-great-days, and Pedro and I headed home.

I love that he is the kind of man who is game to make a random spontaneous detour just to look at the sunrise, and to chat with a stranger who is doing the same. Here’s to a million more sunrises.