About me
If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. ~ Thomas Paine
Links
Butterfly's Flutter Bys
DJ Groovy Slug Spins...
Espresso Ramblings
hamstermotor
Here today
HOPEFUL MUSINGS
I Was Just Thinking...
KandyKD
mo' gravity and grace
my place now
Passionate Chaos
Still I Rise
Sublime Vacuity
The Daily Blitz
Transition
Urthshu
Woodland Forays
Counter
visited *loading* times
It was a year ago, almost. I had gathered up all of my courage, and one brother, and made the trip to firehouse in order to check an item off of my mental checklist of healing. I had been standing in place, more or less, for about two years, and it was time.
I expected them to be friendly and accommodating. These men weren’t strangers to any of us. It was my own fear of ghosts and hollow aches and confronting the demons that kept me away, nothing else. When we stepped inside the open bay door there was an immediate call of “Little Sister!”, a nickname which sticks to this day, and comes from Brian’s insistence on including the word “little” whenever he referred to me as his sister. There were hugs and handshakes, and from upstairs, a voice, coming closer, and singing along loudly with the radio. I still remember the words as they got closer:
“Tell me, did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find, and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there…”
I looked at the captain and he smiled and shook his head and rolled his eyes, as if to suggest, without words, that perhaps someone had chosen the wrong career path. And then he was there, still singing, something that I now know he does regularly and without shame. I noticed, maybe for the first time, that when he smiles a dimple appears in his right cheek, but not the left, and that when he hugs you he smells good, but not in a perfumey-cologne kind of way.
If, at that moment, someone had tapped me on the shoulder and whispered that this man, in less that a year, would be my husband, my laughter would have broken the tension.
The awkwardness was over quickly, and we sat and talked like old friends, which we were. They shared stories and I was so completely overwhelmed by how incredible they all were. I remember hoping that someday I could get to the point where they were, where they could speak of their lost brothers and laugh at the funny parts instead of feeling your heart turn to stone at the thought of this being “it”. No more stories, you know? I wasn’t there yet. I’m barely there now. But they were inspiring.
Before we left, I signed a guest book. A tribute to the fallen men. I wrote a quick note to my brother, telling him that I was glad that he had such great friends. I filled out the contact information, just because everyone before me had done so. And as we walked out, he told me not to be a stranger, and I said I wouldn’t, and that was that.
It took him two weeks to call me and ask me out on a date. I recently asked him why he waited so long, and he said that he wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate, and there had been much discussion, and a vote. “Stop it,” I said. “Tell me you didn’t actually vote.” He shrugged and said they had totally voted, and while I tried to decide whether or not to be totally horrified by this, he said “Don’t worry, they all voted “yes”.
There was a point very early on when I wasn’t sure it would work. The common denominator was weird, and I felt like we had too many people cheering us on. As if, if it didn’t work out, we would be disappointing all of these people who thought they were witnessing the perfect fairy tale. It’s the kind of stuff that you read on the “People” pages of the NY Post, and I didn’t want that either. I just wanted to take away all of the stuff that brought us together and just be a normal couple who met in a bar or something. I don’t want to be a fairytale, or even worse, a feel-good story about September 11th.
In fact, we had this discussion in a crowded bar in April of last year, and he listened to me go on and on, as he often does, and he had a little smile the whole time. When I stopped talking, he said “And you think people are cheering us on because you’re Brian’s sister?” and I said yes, I did, and he said “If people are cheering us on, it’s because they know I’ve had a crush on you for over three years, and I finally had the guts to ask you out.”
Well, what’s a girl supposed to say to something like that? 
posted by: AmericanGirl at 20:26 |
link | comments (14) |
Recent comments
Archives
today
October 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
Template by motime.com 